Runaway
by Philis
Summary: Despair. Torture. Sex. When Hermione goes to retrieve her parents from Australia, things are not as they seem. Why are there Death Eaters on the loose? And more importantly, why are they looking for her? Confusion increases as she meets someone who's supposed to be dead... can they help each other?
1. Prologue

**Right, I had to reupload this (deleted it by mistake ..), and I'll be happy if some people would review. Next chapter is planned for saturday. Cheers, Phil**

Australia was beautiful.

The weather was far more pleasant than it ever was in London. The sun shone every day, light clothed people crowded the streets in the bright glow of the afternoon sun and for the first time in weeks, Hermione felt thoroughly warm. It was as if the sunlight was entering her body through every orfice, flooding through her veins like liquid happiness, liquid joy.

Hermione rounded the corner of the street, at which's sides stood several decorative houses. Her destination was the white one with the the shallow, brick red roof and the large square balcony behind in which, in the doorway that led inside, several curtains were moving gently in the warm breeze. It was surrounded by a small, tidy garden, perched in the middle of two other houses.

It wasn't just any house.

At the plesant scent of roses that greeted her nose as she approached, her heart skipped a beat and. Of course there would be roses. It wasn't very different from the place she had grown up in, just sunnier and more cheerful. She stopped shortly to admire the tiny petals of pale pink blossoms on the hedge, only too aware that her throat had suddenly become dry, and her palms were sweaty.

She had waited for this moment so long. The last steps toward the entrance were prolongued almost painfully by the winding path that led up to the small flight of stairs at the door. She had reached the hedge by now, was about to pry open the finely sculpted, rose-hung gates when an all too familiar voice broke the lazy afternoons silence.

The noise had been close.

For the tiniest second, Hermione froze, before her pulse surged violently until all but the sound of her rapidly hammering heart and the blood rushing through her veins as though in flight, faded and died. Somewhere in the front corner of the house, something, or someone was moving.

Out of reflex, Hermione threw herself down beside the hedge that surrounded the lawn. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, too scared of what the next day would bring, no doubt a reminder of the horrible war through which she had lived in the past few months. Always on the run, always hiding, avoiding human contact, neglecting happiness, joy, love, and thus life, for the greater good.

To defeat Lord Voldemort.

Hermione's hand slid into her pockets, toward her wand, clenching around it tightly. She had not been mistaken, she knew that sound. It was the sound that she connected to danger, panic and terror. A sound that was the herald of impending doom, as well as a signal to flee.

She had heard it too often in the past year than to misunderstand.

She forced her breath to calm.

After several minutes, she was about to dismiss what she had heard. After the war, her senses were still sharp, judged too quickly, warned her too quickly. She had to think, to remember, to remind herself how she had been before the war.

And even if there were indeed witches of wizards apparating, there was no reason for her to react as she had. She had all right to be here, no one wanted to cause her, or her family any harm. She was a hero.

Yet, Hermione stood still as hushed voices echoed from inside the narrow hedge. Tiny thorns scratched at her neck and naked arms as she slowly moved closer toward the silvery white gate that led into the garden. She tilted her head to side of the gate, desperate to get a better view into the front lawn. Somewhere inside the house, the beautifully clear ringing of bells became audible, and then a voice. A familiar voice.

Hermione forced herself to stay calm, and took deep breaths, realizing that she was about to start hyperventilating. She waited, craning her neck to get a better view to the front door.

Two men in black garments were standing in front of the door, no doubt waiting for someone to open. They were facing the doors, and despite her best efforts, Hermione could not make out so much as their profiles.

She swallowed thickly.

They could not be wizards. Not a soul knew who lived in this house, or who the Wilkins were before they had come to Australia. She had made sure of that.

The thought calmed her momentarily. Most likely those two men were plumbers, electricians, friends of the family, that sort. What she had heard must have been merely the sound of an exploding tire, the sputtering of a dying engine of a lawnmower, or the banging of a door in the breeze.

"Mr. Wilkins?" a hoarse voice said.

"Yes, that would be me." replied another.

Hermione's heart leaped, and despite the curiousity of the situation she found herself in, she could not help the smile that spread over her lips. She had missed this so much, had missed her them so much. Ever since the moment she had relocated both her parents to Australia for their own safety, she had wished for nothing more than to speak to them again, to have them back again.

"Good afternoon." said another voice. A female one.

Hermione could almost hear the smile.

"Mum..." Hermione whispered as her eyes swam with tears of joy. She had promised herself not to get too emotional until they were back to before-the-war, but hearing their voices again after such a long time was more difficult than she had expected.

"We received a call this morning that you require assisstance with your technical equipment." said one of the strangers. Hermione could not quite place the odd feeling at his words. It was perfectly ordinary, provided that they were both dentists.

She only realized what it was when the second man spoke.

"We are from Hoverson maintenance. Shall we discuss the matter inside?"

It sounded mechanical, learned by heart, as if the man was merely reciting what had been rehearsed several times. It sounded familiar, even.

She was about to intervene, when a voice spoke close to her.

"Yes of course. Do come in, do come in." said her father.

_No! Don't let them in!_ Hermione shouted in her head in plain terror.

"Are you all right, dear?"

Hermione looked around in confusion, momentarily distracted.

„Sorry?"

Only then, she realized that she was still sitting on the ground beside the hedge, her wand clutched so tightly in her fingers that she was sure her fingernails would leave marks. Hastily, Hermione pushed herself off the ground and stuffed it back into her pocket, extending a warm smile at the elderly woman in front of her.

"I just dropped my... my watch." she said.

Hermione's glance followed the woman's to her wrists, and she was glad that she had taken off her watch to reset it to the Australian timezone when she had decided to collect her parents. It took several more seconds, a time in which Hermione felt as if she was standing on needles, until she was alone again.

She cursed that nosy old woman.

A quick look up and down the street told her that it was empty now.

"_Alohamora_!" the gate clicked open conveniently quiet.

An observer would have no doubt thought she was breaking into her parents house. She had never been here before, unsure where to go. She tried the front door first, which was locked.

No sound came from inside the house.

Carefully, she edged around the corner, wand held high, ready to strike, or defend herself, any second. Again, there were voices.

„I do not know what you mean." the voice belonged to her father.

„Your daughter, Muggle." said one of the strangers, „Where is she?"

„This is ridiculous." replied her father.

„Stay calm, Wendell. I'm sure it is simply a mistake.." her mother's voice was imploring.

Hermione pressed herself flat against the wall, her breath reduced to shallow, soundless intakes and releases, straining her ears to gather each and every word that was said behind the walls. Surely, this was a mistake.

"Surely, there must have been a mistake." Hermione could tell that her mother was addressing the two strangers now.

"Where is she?" the stranger's voice quivered dangerously now.

"I don't know what you mean! We have no daughter, we never did!" Hermione's father was saying, "We did not want to have children!"

It stung, more than she had expected it to. She had predicted it would be like this, brilliant in spells that she was. They did not remember her, as had been her intention when she had modified their memories in the first place. She could not be selfish now, perhaps this was the only thing keeping them alive.

"Stupid muggle.." said one of them.

"Probably a memory charm." said the other stranger. His voice was the tiniest bit deeper, but none the less menacing.

"Is that so?"

Hermione hated the sickly-sweet tone the man used now. She realized what was going to happen immediately.

She breathed deeply now. They were protected best as they could be, both on the inside and shielded against outside attacks on their memories. She had made sure of that. She would make things worse if she barged in now. There would be no need to keep them alive.

"_Legilimens_!"

There was a crash.

"Monica!"

Some shuffling.

"Blocked." said the man with the higher voice.

"What are you doing?!" shouted her father, and Hermione chewed her lip. She could not interfere, she had to keep the safe. They were safe as long as she did not show up. And if not safe, at least they were not dead.

"One last time, _Granger_, where is that ruddy mudblood daughter of yours?"

"Are you completely mad? I don't know what you are talking about!" her father was panting, „What have you done to my wife?!"

"It's no use." said the man with the deeper voice. Again, Hermione meant to recognize the voice from somewhere.

"Well, then, as planned." said the other with a mirthless laugh.

"_Crucio_!"

Hermione's heart stopped as the most terrible scream she had ever heard tore through her eardrums. At the exact same time, she was finally able to place that menacing, cruelly cold voice. She had heard it many times before, not last at Malfoy Manor in the preceeding year.

"Greyback." she gasped.

She jumped over the small, marble fence that separated the garden from the terrace and, accompanied by her fathers agonized screams, tore through the white curtains that veiled the entrance.

The scene unfolded like a nightmare in front of her. Her mother was limply lying on the ground to her father's feet, who was writhing in sheer unbearble pain beside her. His features were distorted into a grimace of terror, and his eyes widened in warning.

"_Stupefy_!" she yelled twice, hitting both of the men straight in the back.

She crouched down low beside her mother. She could not be dead, she simply could not. As she frantically searched for a pulse, her father crawled to his wife and daughter's side.

"Who are you?" he croaked.

Finally, a pulse.

"Don't." Hermione replied, avoiding to look into his eyes.

"Why are you here? Who are you? What about my wife?" his voice broke.

Hermione swallowed. She had never seen him like this before, weak, vulnerable. He was her father, her superhero.

"_Imperio_." she said as the Death Eaters stirred. Her father let out a terrified noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a yell as they begun moving toward her.

„You will return to whoever sent you. You haven't found what you were looking for. Hermione Granger has no parents. You will not remember that it was I who told you this. You will forget everything that happened today, and everything related to the Muggleborn witch Hermione Granger." she instructed. „Go now."

They disapparated, and Hermione turned back to her parents.

They were not safe.

Her mother had stirred again, her eyes searching Hermione's in disbelief, while her father was gaping at her.

"Who are you?" asked her mother in a shaky voice that made Hermione cringe.

Something wet hot was rolling down Hermione's cheek. She brushed it away. Her sight was swimming as she pointed her wand at them again, her father jerking violently as if about to launch himself in front of his wife.

"I'm... so sorry, mum, dad..." she looked into the fearful eyes for one lasting moment. „_Obliviate_!"

Hermione ran from the house as fast as she could. Half blind with tears, she rushed toward the white metal gate, fine gravel crunching beneath her shoes.

Away. She needed to get away. Before they woke up.

She locked the door behind her.

She didn't stop to catch her breath before spinning on the spot.

Sydney vanished.

The next moment, her nose filled with the familiar smell of London. Wet pavement, freshly mown grass, dust and dirt.

Once she found those Death Eaters, there would be hell to pay.

* * *

**This is the prologue of quite a long story to come, I hope you liked it. Reviews will be appreciated, as will random guessing as to what is going to happen next. I like it when you guess.**

**Cheers.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you for your reviews, here is Chapter 1! I hope you'll enjoy it, and I promise there will be lots of Snape in the next chapter, which is, most likely, going to be published Next Saturday! Cheers, Phil**

"I can't stay for long."

Hermione felt her knees aching on the cold, hard stone floor that was the ground of the Leaky Cauldron's guest rooms.

"Where are you, 'Mione?"

The two faces of her best friends were staring at her in bewilderment.

"I told you, I can't tell you." Hermione repeated her words of moments ago.

"I don't understand." said Ron.

She was glad when Harry nudged him out of the way to speak to her himself. While she loved both of them, she was in no shame to admit that Harry was the more understanding of the two.

"What happened, Hermione?" he asked, voice serious.

"There is no time to explain. This conversation might be intercepted any moment." Hermione glanced around herself quickly. The room was void of people, safe herself. Still, she could not shake the odd prickling feeling on the back of her neck.

"You'll have to trust me, both of you." she added as an afterthought.

"We do, 'Mione." said the Ron-shaped flame in the fireplace.

"The less you know about this, the better. If anyone asks, you don't know where I am." Hermione said.

"But we don't know where you are." said Ron.

Hermione shook her head, unable to keep from growling impatiently.

"They might be after you next, and I'm in no position to help."

Somewhere behind, a plank of wood creaked. Someone was coming up the stairs.

"Who's 'they'?" asked Harry.

"Death Eaters."

The very same second Hermione said those two words, there was a sharp rapping on her door. She wasted no time pulling her head out of the flame and jolting upward, her wand already in her hand, pointed straight at the door.

"Who's there?" she shouted.

_Silly_. _Death Eaters would not possibly knock_.

She did not lower her wand.

"Dinner, Miss Huntington." said a bored voice.

"Leave it at the door, I'll collect it." Hermione instructed.

"As you wish, Ma'am." said the witch outside. There was a shuffling, and then silence.

_No one knows who I am_. _I'm safe, for now_. Hermione chanted in her head. It was a mantra she had repeated continuously over the past few days.

The urge to check on her parents was growing stronger. She had to know that they were still alive, that they were safe.

Hermione begun pacing.

"You can't go there now, what if someone follows you? You would put them in unnecessary danger." she told herself.

It took several minutes until her racing heart had slowed down and the storm in her head had calmed. It never really ceased. A constant rush of adrenaline and fear kept her up at nights, and if she found sleep, it mere minutes she spent with her eyes closed and her fingers tightly curled around her wand.

The paranoia was getting worse.

Every creak of wood rose her from her light, restless slumber. Every witch, wizard, or otherwise was her enemy. At times, she did not even trust herself.

Hermione edged closer to the door, and only after several minutes of listening for footsteps, she pulled in her food through the tiniest slit she could manage.

Her pulse had surged yet again, and it took another few minutes until she was calm enough to cast a spell.

"_Homenum Revelio_!" Hermione directed the spell at her room.

Someone could have slipped in.

She was only partly relieved when nothing happened.

She then turned to her food.

"_Revelio hexia_!"

Only after two revelation spells, Hermione lifted the lid of the silver carafe on the tray. It was filled with stew, the second with bread.

Hermione felt the corners of her lips twitch. She was an idiot for thinking anyone who worked at the Leaky Cauldron would want to poison her. Especially when they did not know who she was.

Over the past few days, she had become divine in glamour spells.

The stew was outstanding by the Leaky Cauldron's standards. It gave Hermione time to think.

In hindsight, she had not given her friends any kind of info on what was happening. Perhaps she should have, considering that if the Death Eaters were unable to find her, they would go for her closest friends next.

Flooing them again was not an option.

Even this smallest of interaction had made her feel vulnerable, exposed. She should have thought this through better, should not have used the Leaky Cauldron's floo.

The sooner she left, the better.

But where to go?

It was vital that she should find a place to hide. Somewhere safe, where she could form her plan of revenge.

After she had finished eating, she replaced the tray with the silver tableware back in front of her door, once again cast her secrecy detector spells, and thought with the slightest hint of amusement that she was acting like Moody.

It was necessary.

_Constant Vigilance_, she told herself.

Whom could she trust?

How had the Death Eaters found out about her parents' current location?

Why was Fenrir Greyback, the most vicious and vile werewolf, not in Azkaban?

Hermione was not an Auror. She had never aspired to be one.

There were only two Aurors she knew, and trusted.

Harry was not an option any longer, for he was in just as much danger as herself.

Was it safe to trust the former Order of the Phoenix?

Hermione begun pacing again, small circles in front of the shabby, old four-poster bed that the room offered. With each step, the wooden planks creaked under her shoes.

Repeatedly, Hermione threw her head back over her shoulder, scanning the tiny room for movement that was not hers.

Considering that no one but Harry, Ron and herself knew about Australia, had it been stupid to freely disclose upon them that she was in hiding? The possibility was miniscule, but what if one of the Death Eaters had successfully managed to place an _Imperius_ on either of them?

Had someone listened in on their conversation?

Hermione closed her eyes, remembering the conversation that had taken place before she had gone to retrieve her parents.

After several months of rebuilding the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, numerous funerals and united efforts to cope with their losses, they had returned home. The Granger's house had stayed empty for the course of the two years it had taken them to defeat the Dark Lord and rebuild their homes.

It was time to bring back her parents.

They had been at the Burrow, celebrating their victory. At one point, Hermione's gaze had wandered over the table, lingered on a stocky-built, red haired wizard whose eyes stared dully at a point that no one else could see.

_Are you alright, George_? _Of course you are not_. _You died when he did_.

She had taken Harry and Ron aside, momentarily escaping the lifeless eyes of the Weasley twin.

It was time to collect her parents.

_Are you sure you want to do this alone_?

Harry's eyes trained on hers affectionately, wondering.

_It wont take long, it's a simple spell_.

Hermione sat on the edge of her four-poster bed, but it was as though it was a pin-cushion.

Where should she start with her investigations?

The library was not an option.

Hermione begun pacing again.

What she needed the most was information.

Why were there Death Eaters out of Azkaban, a year after the battle of Hogwarts?

How did one go about finding the culprits that had tortured one's parents?

Asides from Harry, there was one more Auror she trusted with her life.

Kingsley Shacklebolt.

* * *

Hermione pulled her hat deeper into her face.

No one would recognize her in her plain, black robes and the lowly dipped hat to which was attached a veil in the front. Her hair was the colour of ivory for the occassion, and knotted into a tight bun under her crooked witch's hat.

Ever since her escape from Australia, she had been wearing a masterfully crafted glamour, used a different name and had not stayed in one location for more than two days.

Her time in the Leaky Cauldron, and thus in the close proximity of the British Ministry of Magic, was limited.

Hermione entered the phone bo they had used on their fifth year adventure to the Ministry. She barely remembered the numbers she had dialed five years ago. At last, the cool voice of the ministry witch echoed through the small cabin, and after several seconds of stating her name and purpose, a small badge slid out of the metal chute intended for return coins.

_Hannah Huntington_, _Spoils of War_.

_Fitting_.

Hermione attached the curiously worded badge onto her black robes and waited impatiently for the lift to take her into the ground. Despite the magicall enchanted windows and spacious hallways, the knowledge of being underground made her uneasy.

It felt like a trap.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day." the witch's cool voice said impartially.

Before her, the golden grills of the lift slid open in either direction, revealing the Atrium. On the far end was a small desk with a sign that read _Security_ above it. Behind it, a balding man in navy blue robes was reading today's edition of the Daily Prophet.

Hermione had no intention to forfeit her wand as the witch in the lift had instructed. If there was anything that would give her away immediately, it was her trusted wood wand.

In the middle of the Atrium, the fountain of magical Brethren had been rebuilt, a polished shield in front of it indicating that donations were being collected for St. Mungo's hospital of Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Hermione tugged on her hat again so that it covered most of her face.

She queued herself in with the constant stream of witches and wizards entering the lifts on either side of the Atrium. It was most logical that she should act as though she did this every day, as though she belonged in the Ministry. In some way, she supposed she did.

Had it not been for the unfortunate event that took place in Australia, Hermione would have accepted an assistant position in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures this week.

She had a vague idea where Kingsley Shacklebolt, former member of the Order of the Phoenix, and newly appointed Minister for Magic, would be. While it seemed likely that Kingsley, who had not yet resigned from his position as Head Auror, still occupied his old office, it was naive to assume that this was indeed true.

It was not even certain that he was in the building, but perhaps, if she held her head low, she would be able to find out from his colleagues.

Hermione entered the elevator with several other witches and wizards.

She was surrounded by ministry workers. At any time, either of them could turn around and recognize her for who she really was.

Hermione Granger. Holder of a first class Order of Merlin, savior of the wizarding world, Hero.

Hero of the wizarding world, on the run. Hiding.

She looked around casually. In the mass of black and dark blue robes, no one looked closely at the strange, small witch in their midst. Neither of the passengers paid her any attention. There were no eyes trained upon her. They were preoccupied with their own tasks.

Why was it then that she felt a certain, uncomfortable prickling in the back of her neck?

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamont Administration Services."

Hermione departed the lift in a flock of Inter Departmental Memos.

"After I spoke to the new Minister of Magic..."

She knew that silky voice.

Why was Lucius Malfoy not in Azkaban?

She slid past him slowly, drawing no attention to herself.

Her eyes fixed on the magically enchanted windows, behind which a fierce hurricane was raging, she missed a hasty black shadow passing her by.

On the other end of the corridor, a short witch was standing idly at the window, observing the Auror's cubicles. She raised her gaze as Hermione approached, and Hermione came to an abrupt halt as she recognized the long strands of fine, red hair.

"Ginny." she gasped.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow, regarding her with a questioning look. Her eyes became small slits, before they widened in genuine surprise.

"Merlin's saggy Y fronts... Hermione?" Ginny whispered.

"Not so loud!"

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be in America by now for sure!" said the witch.

One of her hands found Hermione's arm and she squeezed, as if trying to make sure there was really someone standing in front of her.

"How did you know?"

It unsettled Hermione that someone could see through her charms. If Ginny knew who she was, who else had figured it out?

"Your voice." Ginny smiled, "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Why are you here?" Hermione asked.

"Was helping Dad relocating his things to the new office." she said.

Several seconds of silence followed.

"Are you safe? Where do you live now? What about your parents?" her voice was hushed now.

"You know I can't disclose this to you."

Ginny threw her head back, and Hermione meant to see the slightest hint of irritation flit over her friend's face. It was gone as quickly as it had come.

"I'm your best friend." she insisted.

"This is for your own safety. That, and for your family." said Hermione quietly.

She could impossibly discuss this now with Ginny. Not here.

"Listen, I have to get going." she said apologetically.

"Where are you going?"

"I... I have to figure out why those Death Eaters are not in Azkaban."

It felt wrong to share this information. It felt as though she was getting Ginny into danger.

"Is there nothing I can do to help?" Ginny asked pleadingly.

Hermione bit her lip.

"Just be safe." she told her.

She waited until Ginny had disappeared towards the lifts.

Hermione remembered vaguely that Harry had told her that Kingsley's cubicle was at the end of the hall. Several battle-worn witches and wizards stuck their heads out of their cubicles to get a look at the ivory haired witch making her way to the last.

To her great disappointment, it was empty.

Her heart was beating quickly now. Her hands were sweaty around the delicate, thin wood of her wand. She felt exposed. Even more so since she had run into someone familiar, someone who had recognized her.

"Can I help you?" said a deep voice behind her.

Despite the familiarity, Hermione almost jumped.

"Kingsley." she said as she turned around.

The dark skinned man nodded her head toward her in mild bemusement.

Of course. He had no idea of knowing who she was. It was risky, but she had to reveal herself.

For the tiniest of moments, Hermione dropped the glamour charm, and knew it was successful when Kingsley's eyebrows rose.

"Hermione?"

She looked at him beseechingly, her finger halfway on her lips.

"Is there a place where we can talk alone?" she replaced the glamour quickly.

With a wide gesture of his open hand, Kingsley indicated toward the lifts.

"Let us go upstairs into my office."

Lucius Malfoy had long gone. The corridor was empty, safe for Ginny.

Hermione nodded at her as they passed.

On any other occasion, Hermione would have been honored to be led into the Minister's office by the Minister of Magic himself.

"No one will hear, or see us." said the Minister of Magic quietly.

She let his deep, calming voice wash over her. It gave her a curious sense of security.

Hermione took the offered chair reluctantly, feeling that a timely escape would be easier if she was already standing.

Once seated, she accepted a mug filled with steaming hot tea.

"You want to speak?" Kingsley asked.

"First I must explain what happened before I disappeared with Harry last year."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow.

"Before we met at the Burrow, I relocated my parents to Australia, to keep them safe." it felt good to tell someone about the events, "I planned to recover them as soon as the war had ended, provided I was still alive."

Kingsley nodded at her words.

"When I got there, around a week ago, I had to discover that someone else found their location before me." she ran her thumb over the edges of her mug and looked around quickly before she continued, "Two Death Eaters were at the house, inquiring..."

Kingsley's eyes narrowed on her, "Did you recognize either of them?"

"One of them was Fenrir Greyback, I heard him, recognized his voice when he... when he used the Cruciatus on my dad." she swallowed, "I got in there as fast as I could, dealt with them, their memories."

And her parents, but she did not mention that.

"That is bad." said Kingsley. "How are your parents?"

"Shaken, I guess." said Hermione, "But otherwise they are fine. They... they wont remember."

"I see. What you have described is not unlike Greyback, though most usual he tends to kill before asking question. There must be something he, or someone else, desperately needs, else he would not have bothered torturing."

"Unfortunately, we cannot ask him either of those questions."

"Why?" Hermione said immediately.

Kingsley had been her last hope.

"Unfortunately, his location is currently unknown." he continued as he saw Hermione's incredulous features, "Capturing a werewolf is not an easy task, Hermione. He had many friends, places to hide. Desperate followers who all look up to him, who still believe in the Dark Lord's promise of their liberation."

"Which, of course, does not mean that we wont try."

Hermione begun pacing again.

It helped her think.

"Why is Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban?" she asked.

Kingsley sighed.

"Influence. Even after the war, the Malfoy family has strong ties within the ministry." his gaze fell on Hermione's open mouth, "Needless to say, his reputation has sunken drastically, but there are still some witches and wizards who believe in his story of innocence and trickery."

Hermione snorted.

"One of the witnesses testified for him." he raised hand before she could protest, "I know what you think, but you have to admit that he was one of the first who laid down their wand and stopped to assist Voldemort."

The name was like searing hot wax dropped into her ears. Hermione flinched, backed away from it for the first time in several years.

"You don't think it has anything to do with him, do you?"

"It is unlikely." said Kingsley.

"But he's dead!" her voice was suddenly shrill, "He can't come back again, can he?"

"Hermione..." Kingsley said, folding his hands so that his fingertips touched, "The Dark Lord might be dead, but there are others out there who believe in his ideals. Ancient, pure-blooded families who agree with his set of mind. You've seen Greyback out there, doing his bidding, even though his master is long dead now."

"What if he isn't? What if he managed to truly become immortal?" she bit.

"All of his horcruxes were destroyed, Hermione. It is impossible that he should come back."

"Why were there Death Eaters then, looking for me?"

It was reassuring that her shouting did not make any heads turn. The wards around Kingsley's cubicle seemed to hold.

"Looking for _you_?" repeated Kingsley slowly.

"Yes. They were trying to torture that information out of my parents." she said, "Luckily, my parents didn't even know they had a daughter."

Kingsley regarded her with a sharp look.

"You're a talented witch, Hermione." he said slowly, "There are many possible ways the Dark side could use you."

"Use me?"

"Have you ever been subjected to an _Imperius_ curse?"

"No."

"You could become a powerful weapon in their hands."

Hermione did not understand. The Dark Lord was gone. Kingsley had said so himself.

He must have sensed her thoughts, because he continued even more slowly.

"Perhaps even become their new cause." he said.

"That's ridiculous." Hermione snorted at the idea.

"Many of the former Death Eaters who now walk free have spent several years imprisoned before they were freed by the Dark Lord. The Dementors change people. You can't treat them as rational beings. Their minds are often clouded, confounded by despair and hopelessness."

"Who was the other one?" Hermione was talking more to herself than Kingsley.

For a moment, she had thought it could have been Malfoy. She dismissed the thought. He could not allow himself another crime, not now that everything hung in the balance.

She was certain that she would have recognized Lucius Malfoy's voice.

"All I can tell you at the moment is to keep your eyes open, Hermione."

A sudden, eardrum breaking sound echoed across the corridor into the room.

Hermione froze, her wand drawn and staring toward the door from where the sound had come.

Kingsley looked alert, his wand drawn and aimed at the gap that opened his office to the corridor.

Something dark was advancing toward them. Their wands held high and pointing at them, several hooded figures in black attire were charging toward them.

Curses and Hexes flew in either direction, stunning and disabling the confounded Aurors as they drew their wands to fend off the attackers.

The Death Eaters blasted out of sight human and objects alike as they thundered in her direction. Some of them stopped at several of the cubicles, dragging semi-conscious witches and wizards behind them, shaking them wildly.

"Where is the mudblood?" echoed the question around her.

Something soft touched Hermione's shoulder, and she turned around with a panicked shriek.

Kingsley was standing there, his wand raised. Something cool trickled down her shoulder as the disillusionment charm worked through her body.

"Run." Kingsley said, pushing her out of the cubicle.

Kingsley stepped out behind her, running after her down the corridor, drawing their attention to him so they would not notice the semi-transparent figure of herself. He shielded her from flying hexes and spells.

He stunned two Death Eaters before their way to the lifts was blocked.

Hermione ducked through under one of their arms, rose up on the other side, her wand pointing at the man's back.

Kingsley shook his head.

Hermione turned and run.

The lifts were mere inches away.

"_Crucio_!"

Several voices screamed in agony.

Hermione tried to block out the sound as she slid into the lift and hammered her fist onto the button labeled _Atrium_. They would be in even more danger if she stayed.

The golden grills slid closed in front of her.

In the back, Kingsley was fighting three Death Eaters at once. He was standing in a puddle of thick, red liquid.

One of the Death Eaters in his back raised his wand.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

"NO!" Hermione tore at the grills to open again. "Kingsley!"

The sounds of battle were fading as the golden cage rattled upward.

* * *

Hermione stumbled blindly into the bar room of the Leaky Cauldron.

Her glamour charm had slipped due to the shock.

Had the curse hit Kingsley?

She could not bear the thought that he was dead.

People were staring.

Hermione forced herself to calm down.

Something both soft and hard collided with her.

"Stupid girl.." murmured a dark voice.

The voice was familiar.

Pale, strong fingers curled securely around her arms as she stumbled.

She felt curiously secure.

The body against hers was reassuringly warm, wiry. The figure was wearing a thick, pitch black travel cloak.

She knew that voice.

An image appeared in her head. A narrow dungeon classroom with drawn curtains, the thick smoke of burning cauldrons, and the acid smell of vomit.

When she realized who she was holding on to, whose reassuringly strong arms were holding her, she jolted.

"You?" she gasped.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter three, with three notes to go with it! First, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favourited. Second, it would be nice if the other five hundred readers did so as well. Third, I hope you like this chapter as much as I loved plotting it, and that Snape is satisfactory to you! (He's not THAT easy to do right!) Cheers, Phil.

* * *

"Severus Snape?!"

Hermione's voice had come out louder than she had expected it to.

"Ssssh."

The grip on her arm loosened, and Hermione took a step back to look at the man in front of her.

He was taller than her by several inches, his hauntingly black eyes narrowed down at her in irritation. Several strands of greasy black hair had become loose from the collision, and where now dangling out of the black bowler hat he was wearing and into his forehead. He had disposed of his black, billowing robes in favour of a snug, dark suit and a light traveling cape.

Hermione gaped at him with her mouth open.

He loooked different.

Younger by far than he had ever looked at Hogwarts, and less angry, in a a dark kind of gentleman way.

"Have I something on my cheek?" Snape asked acidly.

Suddenly, Hermione was afraid that if she spoke, her voice would be a high-pitched squeak. She opted to stay quiet while his eyes roamed her face viciously.

It was impossible that he should be here.

Hermione remembered vividly how he had died in battle the year before, right in front of her.

Her eyes found his slender, pale neck where Nagini had sunk her teeth into the tender flesh, but it was hidden by the collar of his traveling cape.

She backed away, her hand twitching toward the wand hidden in her left sleeve.

"Naturally." Snape begun again irritably, "It is not meant for me to live a quiet life. Out of all people I attempted to avoid after my tragic demise in the battle of Hogwarts, it is most fitting that, after months of successfully void peace, I should come upon the most irritating of all of my former acquaintances.

After countless years of suffering under, not only your, and your fellow students' unacceptable incompetency, but also the constant threat, and my own tragic _death_..." at this, his voice broke, and he continued an octave higher, "I was, perhaps, too eager to assume that I would, at last, be rid of your insufferable presence."

He looked quite mad with his eyes rolling dangerously.

Hermione looked at him unmoving. Unfazed.

No one but Severus Snape was able to make her feel as inadequate with a simple sentence.

The insults felt familiar, almost comfortingly so.

"Yes. How did that go?" she asked nonchalantly.

Her grip on her wand relaxed as his jaw fell open.

He gathered himself quickly.

"After I have, in great detail, disclosed my great and utter disapproval and displeasure about this most unfortunate, ill-fated coincidence of coming across you in this Merlin-forsaken place..." he seemed to be on the verge of tears, "...all you desire to learn about is my untimely _death_?" the last word was nothing but a croak.

Before Hermione could answer, Snape's eyes flit around the room hastily.

Several people were staring in their direction.

"I feel watched." she said quietly, "Let's go upstairs for this."

He looked about to argue, but then his lips curved into a mad smile.

"I was under the impression you _enjoyed_ the fame, the attention, the _limelight_?" he spat the last word.

"Well, you're wrong." Hermione said.

This was obviously news to him, because one of his eyebrows quirked upward.

Hermione begun marching toward the staircase that led to the rooms.

"You insolent, little.." Snape cursed, but followed her nonetheless.

The door to her room clicked shut behind them.

"Tea?" Hermione asked.

"What is this, an attempt to poison me?" Snape spat.

His eyes drifted toward the dirt smudges on the lower end of the queen-sized bed disapprovingly.

Hermione had slept in her shoes ever since she had left Australia.

Just in case she needed to make a quick getaway.

"I'm considering it. I'm not convinced yet that you're not a Death Eater, polyjuicing as Professor Snape."

She could see the inner battle that was raging inside him.

He desperately needed to remember her that he, indeed, carried the Dark Mark, but his curiousity over her words quickly took the upper hand.

It would have been comical, had it not been for recent events at the Ministry.

Hermione swallowed thickly, unwilling to believe that Kingsley would have just dropped dead after having fought Dark Wizards for years on end.

"Death Eaters?" his voice cut through the room.

"They broke into the Ministry today, k-kill... perhaps inflicted damage on Kingsley." she was trembling now.

She would not break in front of Severus Snape.

"How do you know that?" he asked sharply.

"I was there."

It was too much.

Hermione put the teapot down quickly, and brushed her sleeve over her eyes.

"There has been a matter of interest I wanted to investigate, concerning an impossible event that occurred last week." she focused on the story rather than the image of Kingsley's broken, lifeless body, "We were speaking, when some of them breached the security of the Minister's office and started shooting hexes around the room."

"What, dare I ask, is this _impossible event_ that occurred last week?" he sounded weary, as though he believed she was making it up, "More importantly, what is your concern with it? Or has Potter's impertinent arrogance and life-threatening need for attention finally spread onto you?"

Hermione bit down the anger at his words.

Although his survival was inexplicable to her, she did not doubt anymore who he was.

"What's it to you?" she willed herself to stay calm.

He looked at her quizzically.

"Believe me, Miss Granger, I would sooner listen to Xenophilius Lovegood's fashion advice than your incoherent rambling, but I can see your unwillingness to let me go." he looked pointedly at the teapot in front of her.

Hermione turned around to look at him, but did not reply.

There was another battle raging behind his purposefully expressionless eyes.

It took several minutes until he spoke again.

"As a matter of fact..." he shook his head, as if trying to get rid of a particularly persistent fly, "I do know about the Dark side's current _activity_. However..." he held up a finger as her lips opened in surprise, "I do not wish to meddle."

She found that hard to believe.

"But Severus..."

He took in breath sharply.

"Do not call me that." he said, "And do not try convince me of the nobility of _assisting_ you, or the wizarding population. After several years of hiding both my mind and my purposes from You-Know-Who, I have no desire whatsoever to continue fighting against the Darkness."

"But..."

"He is dead!" Snape exclaimed, "He will not come back again. I have done everything that needed to be done."

Snape had half risen up from his chair, gaping at her wildly.

If only she could win him for her cause.

Who better than him, a man who had spent his days dwindling between Good and Bad, who knew both Light and Shadow, to help her?

"But Professor..." calling him Snape would have sounded odd, "... don't you want revenge?"

He froze.

It was thin ground she was treading on.

"For all that they did to you, and made you do?"

The muscles in his jaw clenched, his fingers twitched as if he was about to reach for his wand.

It was vital that she did not back down now.

"For all that they did to _her_?" she had to keep going.

He was her last hope.

Her only hope.

She knew she had said too much when he jerked upward, his wand drawn, aiming at her chest.

"Do. Not. Mention. Her." he wailed, "There is nothing to be done, do not ask this of me. Do not ask _anything_ of me!"

With that, he turned and fled out of the door, and she could hear his footsteps dissipating in the distance.

Hermione did not sleep that night.

* * *

The skinny, tall man at the bar, with oversized ears and several pimples, was vaguely familiar to Hermione.

His name was Stan Shunpike, driver of the Knight bus.

He had been in Azkaban for several years because of a mistake.

Hermione had decided to _keep her eyes open_, just as Kingsley had advised her.

Although Hermione was officially in hiding, she had hoped that he, or anyone from the Order, would inform her about his condition.

She dared not to think that he was anything but alive.

He was an Auror.

She was sure he could handle himself against a few Death Eaters.

Stan Shunpike was seemingly unaffected by his stay in prison, but Hermione knew better.

She saw it in the way he flinched at the sound of breaking glass, the unexpected touch of a hand on his shoulder, and the way he repeatedly gazed over to the exit, making sure there was always a way out.

She was the only one who noticed, because she was the same.

"D'ya hear 'bout yesterday?" Stan asked across the bar.

"What about yesterday?" said Tom.

"Some break in at the Ministry?" Stan said vaguely.

He began to shuffle through a pile of newspapers in front of him.

After several minutes, he retrieved a battered copy of the Daily Prophet and pushed it toward Tom.

"Yesterday. Some say it was his lot, ya kno'? Death Eaters." he almost whispered.

Unconsciously, Hermione had leaned into the conversation.

Kingsley had had a point when he had instructed her to keep her eyes open.

For his sake, she tried to ignore the uneasy prickling in the back of her neck.

The open room seemed too narrow, too suffocating.

"Can I see that?" she lunged for the Daily Prophet in Stan's hand.

"'Course." he said, then stared at her profile, "D' I kno' you?"

"I doubt it." Hermione turned away from him again.

She had made sure to cast her glamour most carefully today.

Perhaps she was not as established in face-shifting than she had thought.

"_Yesterday, around lunchtime, the Ministry's tight security measures were breached to grant half a dozen pure-blood supporters entrance to its First floor, and by extension the office of the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt._"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she had to force her eyes back onto the parchment.

"_Mr Shacklebolt, the Ex-Head Auror and highly established duelist, was able to fight his way out and into the corridor that leads to his office, where he surprised, and bound, two well-known __supporters of the Dark Wizard whose defeat was brought on by none other than Harry Potter, appearing to be in flight toward the lifts._"

A mirthless chuckle escaped Hermione's lips.

They had not been in flight.

They had been on the hunt.

For her.

"_Assistance for the Minister arrived shortly after this incident, in which several former Death Eaters, as they called themselves during the Dark Times that lie behind us, were taken into the custody of the Ministry._

_While the reasons for this sudden assault are unknown, a ministry worker informed us that Shacklebolt insists he was not the target of an assassination, and effectively refuses additional security for his person._

_To questions whether this attack should be connected to the Dark Lord rising again, our accosiate reassured us, with a laugh, that this is impossible._

_Following his attack, the Minister was unavailable for comment_."

While it appeared that Kingsley was unhurt, Hermione's sigh of relief was only small.

She could not but find it curious that Kingsley had not personally spoken to the Prophet.

As the Minister for Magic, he had always striven to reassure the wizarding world of their safety.

Did his reluctance to speak to them mean that they were not safe any longer?

_At least he is alive_.

She would not have been able to forgive herself, had Kingsley been hurt trying to protect her.

She had not noticed it before, but suddenly the prickling on the back of her neck was back.

Her hand cramped around the wand she was holding on her lap.

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind her.

"Miss Granger..." a familiar, slow drawl, "Let us speak."

She had not expected to see Snape again.

"Did you change your mind, then, Severus?"

His eyes rolled upward, and he closed them shortly as though he was in pain.

The muscles in his jaw were churning viciously before he swallowed and focused back on her.

Hermione's gaze flit over to the staircase that led to her room.

Snape must have sensed her intention, because he interrupted irritably.

"Not here." he drawled.

"Where then?"

For the first time, her eyes met his.

She must have missed it the night before in the dim light.

He looked much younger than he ever had at Hogwarts.

His black hair fell out under his bowler hat almost gracefully, his lips were a blur of berry-red, and his skin was like ivory.

He looked decent, almost acceptable.

At last, she could believe Harry that he could not be more than thirty seven years old.

"Take my arm." he said.

She stayed at the table.

If he was a Death Eater, he would not dare attack her in the midst of several witches and wizards.

"Miss Granger, my patience is wearing thin." he drawled angrily.

Suddenly, he looked straight into her eyes, and Hermione felt something pushing into her forcefully.

She gasped when images began spreading in front of her eyes.

Her, at Hogwarts, sitting in his classroom with her hand raised.

She could feel his immense anger and dissatisfaction at her eagerness and knowledge.

The hatred that built in him whenever she raised her hand or opened her mouth.

"Take my arm." he repeated, slower, even more menacing.

She did not hesitate.

After sheer endless seconds, her feet hit the ground hard.

Once again, she felt herself stumbling against Severus Snape, holding on to him, of all people, for balance.

It was mildly confusion when he brought his hands to her shoulders to steady her.

"Where are we?" she asked as soon as the world had stopped spinning.

Snape let her go immediately, as if she was a poisonous slug.

"Spinner's End." he grimaced.

Hermione had not expected Severus Snape's home to be as welcoming.

Despite the dark atmosphere and the predominant black and vine red, Hermione instantly felt save and protected.

There were endless shelves of books and scrolls, and in some corner, she could even make out a shining, black piano.

"You know how to play?"

Snape froze, no doubt racking his brain for a snide comment.

Finally, he gave up.

"Yes." he drawled.

"That is..." Hermione searched for the correct word in an effort not to insult him, "Unexpected."

"Because, naturally, you thought that I have no other hobbies than trying to, and despairing over, forcing information into the dunderheads that Hogwarts has to offer?"

She decided to ignore this.

"It's unexpected, but not bad at all. I would like to hear you play."

Hermione bit her tongue.

Had she really just said that?

Snape looked as thunderstruck as she felt.

"Well, well." he recollected himself quickly, "What with Death Eaters on the loose, is this all you desire to know about? My proficiency in playing the piano?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed with colour.

How dare he.

She was about to snap at him, when he spoke again.

"You were right. I do want revenge."

* * *

"Do you want tea, Severus?" Hermione asked.

Her throat had dried out completely in the past half hour, in which Snape had offered her an explanation to his sudden change of mind.

Of course it was because of Lily Evans.

Hermione did not know why that knowledge stung like a dull needle in her chest.

"This is my house!" Snape croaked.

"Which is why you should have offered me tea, instead of the other way around." Hermione said swiftly.

Hermione waved her wand at one of Severus' kettles, and it floated to the sink to fill itself with water, before it dropped onto the already heating stove.

Several minutes of silence later, two mugs of fresh tea were set before them on Snape's small sofa table.

"Do start from the beginning, Miss Granger." he sounded defeated as he took a sip, and and grimaced, "I do not take sugar in my tea."

"Well, you should have made it in the first place, as this is _your_ house." she snarled.

"Australia." he interrupted her. "Show me."

"Show you?"

"A story, an event, if you so please, is best shown instead of told." he drawled.

Hermione did not know how she felt about letting Snape into her mind, her memories.

She thought that he might see those traces of affection she had once had for Ron Weasley, or the hatred she had felt whenever he belittled her in school.

As if on cue, Snape spoke again.

"I will not go further than you will allow me to." his voice was almost soft now. "Close those doors you do not want me to open, do not let me in."

She hesitated.

"Only those who are weak minded will be pushed out of their own mind."

Hermione's eyebrows quirked upward.

Severus Snape would not compliment her, not even in the most bizarre, obscured way possible, would he?

Only gradually, she let him in.

She gave him what he needed to see, and honoring his promise, he did not push further.

While Snape watched her memories, Hermione watched him.

The way his lips were slightly parted, moving at times as if he was speaking, although no sound escaped them.

He had taken off his bowler hat, and now Hermione could see that his hair was, in fact, wavy to the middle.

"What about the ministry?" his voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She gave him those memories as well.

"Miss Granger." he said after a while, "There is one question I seem incapable of finding the answer to."

Hermione looked at him expectantly.

"Tell me." he sneered, "After all those Death Eaters did to your family, you did only remove their memories of the incident. Are you, perhaps, afraid that your spotless Gryffindor pride will be tainted by their filthy blood? Or are you not _brave_ enough to kill?"

"There is nothing brave about killing." Hermione said, looking straight into his eyes.

He did not flinch.

She could almost feel the scorn hanging tangibly between them.

"I was under the impression you had information to share as well, Severus?"

His jaw clenched, and unclenched after several seconds.

"Unfortunately, my ties with the Death Eaters persist, even after the fall of the Dark Lord." he said.

At Hermione's blank look, he impatiently rolled up the sleeve on his left arm.

The Dark Mark was imprinted on his white skin, just as she knew it was, but she could not make out anything distinguishable about it.

He must have sensed that, because he growled and pulled his sleeve back down.

"There has been word that some of the Death Eaters are trying to, for the lack of a better word, _revive_ the Dark Lord."

"WHAT?" Hermione jumped.

Snape grimaced.

"Naturally, it is impossible to bring back the Dead, as you will know yourself." he nodded his head.

Hermione sat back down.

"So why are they trying? How are they trying?" she hastily corrected herself.

"Ancient Magic, blood magic. It is all very uncertain yet." he said quietly.

Hermione stared at him.

"Rumors? I've practically shown you all you ever needed to know for your so called revenge, and all you have for me are rumors? I thought you had something useful, something substantial."

Snape shook his head in irritation.

"Silly girl." he said, "You would not understand why this information, as unlikely as it may seem, I _feel_ their intent. Now that _he_ is gone, only a scar remains." he shook his left wrist meaningfully, "Yet, the connection is as fresh as before."

Hermione swallowed her anger at his arbitrary words.

It was only so much she could do without feeling that she had wasted time.

"So let us assume what you say is true..." he opened his mouth to argue, but she raised a finger, "Why do they want me?"

Snape grimaced worse than ever.

"One can only guess." he said.

"Enough guessing already." Hermione snapped, "Why?"

"You are... _powerful_." he cringed at the word, "Or so they appear to think."

"I'm a mudblood. Does it really matter how powerful I am, as long as my blood is tainted?"

"They are desperate." Snape said, "It is not necessity that you _survive_, Miss Granger."


	4. Chapter 3

Hi folks. Thank you for the kind reviews, and do enjoy this chapter! As promised, here is a deal: If this chapter reaches 10 reviews by Wednesday, I will post another on the same day. Cheers, Phil

* * *

Hermione stood quietly behind Severus Snape for several minutes, watching his head twitch ever so slightly as his eyes moved across the pages.

She wondered that if she had a choice, would she have come back again? Despite their formation of a dynamic duo with just about the same goals, he was cold, and their relationship was unlike any she had known before. It was certainly not as fuzzily warm as it had been with Harry and Ron.

Snape seemed preoccupied with his book, too preoccupied to even notice her entrance. Did he even care that she was there, or would he rather _obliviate_ her and disappear of the surface of the Earth yet again?

"I'm back." Hermione finally said.

"I am aware." Snape replied without taking his eyes off the page.

Hermione scoffed. She had not expected him to acknowledge her in the first place, so why did his disinterest agitate her so much?

"What did you expect? A kiss and a hug?" he sneered, obviously disgusted by the thought.

Hermione considered this proposal.

Would she mind, or even desire, a kiss from Snape?

It would have been unthinkable when they were at school. She would have gagged at only the suggestion of kissing the legendary dungeon bat. But now? Now things had changed. She had grown up, and there was no one but him.

Hermione thought that it might be unhealthy to cling on the only person she had left, but there was no doubt that his suggestion would have been much more amicable than being, for the most part, ignored.

_It would not be sincere_, Hermione reminded herself. Snape barely looked at her, and he certainly had no desire to kiss her at all.

"Perhaps not." she said out loud.

Despite his insistence that staying at the Leaky Cauldron the night before was, to put it in his words, foolishly dangerous, he had made no indication that she had any place to stay but. Even though his eyes had flickered toward the sofa for a fleeting moment, he had made no gesture to invite her to stay.

While she was not too eager to find out about the comfort of Snape's sofa, at some point she would have to find a solution for her sleeping arrangements. She was running out of money rather quickly.

Hermione dropped a pile of newspapers she had retrieved from the Leaky Cauldron onto the back of the piano in front of which he was sitting with his book. He looked stiff and uncomfortable on the small stool. Why had he not positioned himself in the large armchair in front of the fire to read?

His eyes were not moving over the page any longer.

Had he been playing on the piano, and merely pretended to be reading in order to avoid drawing her attention back to the fact that he could play an instrument?

Hermione snorted silently at the sudden surge of feeling unwanted by him. It would not be long, and then she would be gone again.

She took the first newspaper of the pile, today's Daily prophet, which's headline immediately caught her attention.

"_Absence of the Minister_" she read out loud.

"I have already read it." Snape said.

Ignoring his comment, Hermione flipped the pages until she found the article, skimming through the first few lines.

"..._ that the minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, has not been seen since. After further investigation, Auror headquarters have confirmed that Mr Shacklebolt has been absent from the Ministry for the past two days, following the assault on Monday morning. While it is not uncommon for Shacklebolt to operate in secret, as his participation in the well known organization which brought about the downfall of the Dark Lord several years ago, the Order of the Phoenix, has shown, it is rather extraordinary for the Minister of Magic to miss several days of office." she read aloud._

""_Despite the safety we have enjoyed the past two years, I still feel uneasy at the thought that our __Minister has suddenly disappeared_." _says Augusta Longbottom_, "_We all know who was responsible the last time people vanished_.""

A photograph showed an elderly woman with a vulture-adorned hat whom Hermione immediately recognized as Neville's grandmother.

"Where is he?" she addressed Snape directly.

"How should I know?" he sneered.

Hermione's attention had already focused onto the pages, and she barely heard his snort.

Instead, she begun flipping through the pages of the other newspapers she had collected. The same story was featured on the front cover of each.

The disappearance of Kingsley Shacklebolt had not even been missed by the _Quibbler_. Despite a newly discovered sub-species of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, he had made it to the front page.

Hermione stared at Kingsley's face, which was the picture on the front cover, for several seconds. Xenophilius Lovegood had gone fairly easy on him, although his face was obscured by a giantic turban and there were radishes dangling from his one, pierced ear. Hermione was unsure if it was even the correct ear where he usually carried his earrings.

Something soft touched her shoulder, and Hermione jolted violently.

With her wand drawn, she whirled around, and Snape was thrown off balance by her shield charm. He staggered a few steps backward, before finding a hold on the edge of his black velvet sofa from which he glared at her with vicious eyes.

"Oh." Hermione said lamely, "I thought you were..."

Snape snarled.

She shrugged, putting her wand back inside her sleeve, "Sorry."

And after several seconds of him scowling, she continued.

"Don't sneak up on me like that." her voice was softer now.

"This is _my_ house!" Snape hissed.

"Kingsley." Hermione said firmly, unwilling to banter, and Snape's eyebrows quirked upward at the sudden change of topic, "I thought he was alright. He told the Prophet yesterday..."

"One must not trust that others will learn from their mistakes." Snape snarled as he straightened his cloak and rounded over to her. He did not try to get into her back again.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Have you not had, to say it in your words, a pain, with Rita Skeeter before?"

"Those are not my words." Hermione bit.

She hated being corrected, especially if she should have known better in the first place.

"This is irrelevant!" Snape growled, "When will you, and the rest of your dunderheaded friends alike, learn not to trust everything they read!"

Hermione scowled at him.

It felt like he had insulted her personally, because of her love for books. Briefly, she wanted to shoot back that he was just the same, considering that his living room was practically a library, but decided against pointing out their shared passion.

The least she wanted was to associate herself with the former Death Eater any more than she already had, and she knew the sentiment was mutual.

He was above believing in things that were written, as his old potions book had proved.

"That will be the day when you stop being a greasy git. The day you smile, Severus." she snapped.

* * *

"You haven't told me yet how you survived Nagini's attack." said Hermione casually over dinner.

Not that they were having dinner together.

They only decided to become hungry at the same time, and Severus insisted to eat on the sofa to rid himself of the social atmosphere that would have, no doubt, emerged had they eaten side by side.

"Must we discuss this?" Snape sounded tired.

"For all I know, you could be polyjuiced." Hermione pointed out.

"I am most certainly not!"

"Then go ahead." Hermione shifted on her chair so she was closer to the sofa.

She wouldn't have minded to eat with Snape.

Suddenly, she was back at the Shrieking Shack that night.

Panicked Screams echoed in her head, followed by curses, and even more screams. Witches and Wizards writhing in agony as they ran past them, unable to stop and help in case they were targeted themselves. They had a mission.

There was the smell of fire, that mingled with the sweat and dirt dripping down her forehead, and the revolting, iron stench of blood in her nose.

His blood.

Something clattered.

It must be parts of the building crumbling, breaking off under the sheer weight of desperation and agony.

"... Anger..."

There was something on her arm.

Something was closing around her arm.

Hermione twitched, trying to get rid off it.

"Get off!" she wanted to scream, but her voice was barely a gasp.

The smell of blood became stronger, almost overwhelming.

Her ears filled with the rasping, gurgling sound of a dying man.

"No!" she shouted in panic.

He was dying, she had to help him, but there was this grip on her arm, holding her.

She struggled.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione blinked twice.

The battlefield was gone, as was the blood and the body.

Instead, she was staring into the cool, black eyes of the dead man.

"Severus." she said.

His jaw clenched.

"You look very pale, perhaps you should rest."

Each of those words seemed to be agonizingly painful to him.

"No."

Hermione pulled her knees up to her chest.

"I'm fine. I want to hear the story."

He looked doubtful.

"Don't tell me you've suddenly found a heart, and begun to care about the likes of me?"

She could not tell why he annoyed her so. He always acted impartial, even though through his actions it became evident that he was not. Perhaps that was what war had made him into. After all, he had already seen two wars.

Would she be like him if she lived through another?

"Tell me the story. Please." she said.

"There is nothing to tell." Snape said irritably, "I survived."

"But how?"

"I was _prepared_." his voice was a disapproving hiss. "I am, at all times, prepared for anything. I have spent the most part of my life as a spy on a man who would, no doubt, dispose of his mother if it was beneficial for his ambitious goals." Snape paused for several seconds, as though considering how to continue, "More than once I have seen him murder witches and wizards who were as close to him as I was because of a hunch."

_Constant Vigilance_.

She would have expected nothing less of her former professor.

There was only one piece that did not fit.

"You couldn't possibly know about the snake." Hermione said accusingly.

Snape sneered at her.

"Foolish girl. Do you not think I knew the Dark Lord, perhaps even better than myself? Often, I observed him utilize Nagini to kill. His familiar was merely an extension of his wand." Snape said.

Hermione fell silent at that.

"Naturally, I am aware that you had rather I died that night." said Snape after several minutes.

Startled, Hermione looked up into his eyes. Was there a trace of hurt she detected?

"That's not true." she said.

"There is no need to pretend, Miss Granger." he grimaced.

"I'm not. Don't be so dramatic. Just because we had out differences in school it does not mean that I hate you. Neither do Harry, or Ron."

Snape's jaw clenched again at her mentioning Harry, and she sighed silently.

She could not believe him.

After all he had went through, after all he had done for them, did he really think that she'd rather he was dead? It made her angry that a man, who had shown such strength during the war and the years leading to the war, believed that he was nothing but a nuissance.

Snape did not reply, but looked at her quizzically.

"All that time, I have not felt a sliver of empathy for the boy or other people."

Hermione understood _the boy_ to mean Harry.

"Why would you say that, after you've quite clearly shown what you are capable of doing out of love for others?"

"It was selfish." Snape spat, "Merely a childish dream that led me to believe I could atone myself."

"But you did, Severus."

He snorted.

"Whichever sin you have committed before, you atoned for it and more. The whole wizarding world is in your debt." Hermione said beseechingly.

"And yet, I am burdened with your presence, as though I have not atoned enough." he snarled.

Hermione should have known not to reassure him. She must have been kidding herself thinking that he would be grateful.

"Why didn't you come back?" Hermione changed the topic quickly, "Why didn't you tell us, _anyone_, that you survived? You even received a First Class Order of..."

Mid-sentence, Hermione realized just who she was talking to.

In front of her sat a man who had been forced to age quickly, who had, for the best part of his life, been a spy and a traitor, under the constant threat on his life. His first priority had always been to desperately hide his good side, and avoid association with anything pleasant in favour of a mask of hatred and evil.

Hermione herself had covered her Order of Merlin, hid it from sight behind the books on her shelves.

If only she could turn back time.

She often wished that she was not that hero who had witnessed her best friend's brother's death.

Snape had lost too.

Maybe they weren't so different at all.

When she looked up again, Snape was watching her with a curious expression. It was not quite sad, but not impartial either.

Without reading her mind, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

_We soldier on_.

* * *

The cold stone floor was hard against her shoes.

It reminded Hermione on the night she spent helpless and mutilated under Bellatrix' hands.

She pushed the thought out of her mind.

She had just paid Tom, wished Stan, who appeared to have taken permanent residence at the bar, a good night, and headed upstairs.

The sight of Lucius Malfoy standing on the stairs did not fail to make her sick.

The patriarch had not taken part in her interrogation, but he had not attempted to stop it either.

She brushed past him quickly, in case her glamour slipped and he recognized her.

He was speaking to someone, a small, cloaked figure.

It was as though she was back in the Ministry of Magic, before several Death Eaters had forced entry. He had been there too.

For several seconds, Hermione could only stare at the blond man.

Had he had anything to do with the assault on her, and consequently Kingsley?

Kingsley.

He was the reason she was here.

She had to talk to someone from the Order, someone who would know for certain whether Kingsley was still alive.

Hermione brushed her angry thoughts aside and took the last steps into her room, where she cast her usual detection spells. As they came back, revealing that, except for her, the room was empty, she settled down in front of the fireplace.

There was no other option but him.

She threw a hand full of green glittering dust into the fire and waited until the flames were green before she dropped onto her knees and advanced with her head.

"The Burrow." she instructed.

Several seconds later, her head was in the familiar Weasley kitchen.

"Mr. Weasley?" she said, and then shouted.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" said a voice.

It was Bill.

"Bill, hi." Hermione said.

"Who the... Hermione, is that you?"

Hermione could not tell whether she was angry at her lousy glamour, or perhaps flattered that Bill knew her closely enough to recognize her despite her attempts to go inkognito.

"Yes. Is..." this was awkward, "Is your dad home?"

"Everyone's out but me." he said with a smirk, "But if you need a Weasley, I'm just as good as dad, you know."

Bill looked at her in amusement, while she blushed.

She had to admit he was right about that.

"I was just wondering." Hermione nibbled her lip, "It has to do with the Order..."

Bill's eyebrows immediately contracted into a frown.

"Is something the matter?"

She had always liked Bill.

He took her seriously.

"I... I can't tell yet." part of her wanted to reveal it all.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen you in a while." he said. "Are you sure everything's alright?"

"Yes."

Hermione immediately felt guilty for lying to Bill, but if it meant that he would be safe, she would not beat herself up about it.

"Right."

She could tell he didn't believe her.

"You wanted to ask something?" he continued.

"Have you read the Prophet today?"

"Haven't had time yet, I just came back from Egypt, popping in for a visit at my parents', you know. Why?"

"There's been rumors that... that Kingsley's been missing from office since yesterday."

There was a crash somewhere downstairs.

Hermione tried to ignore the violent jerk of her heart and the urge to flee.

"What's that?" Bill asked.

"Someone must have dropped something."

There was more noise outside now, coming up the stairs.

"Kingsley." Hermione urged him.

"I haven't heard anything." Bill said, "But don't worry, I'm sure he's fine, he's..."

Hermione never knew what exactly Kingsley was, because there was another crash outside her door.

Someone was shouting.

Hastily, Hermione withdrew her head from the fireplace and pulled her wand out of her pocket.

"Stop, stop!" a panicked, yet pompous voice echoed through her door.

She took a step toward it, dropped to her knees and peered through the keyhole.

A scene most bizarre unraveled in front of her eyes.

On the other side of the narrow corridor, a tall, blond figure was pressed against the wall, arms in front of his face.

Several other wizards and witches had gathered on top of the stairs, hurling what looked like plates and food at the Malfoy patriarch.

Hermione did not know whether to smirk or feel pity for him.

"Disgrace!" an infuriated wizard shouted.

Hermione could see Tom hurried up the stairs, trying to force his way through the crowd.

"Once the minister hears about this..." Malfoy's attempt to make his voice threatening failed, mainly because of the high pitch.

"Please, do calm..." Tom was silenced by a cucumber colliding with his face.

In a moment of sheer insanity, Hermione pulled open the door and made to stand in front of Lucius, shielding him.

"Stop this nonsense." Hermione said fiercely.

Only when the objects their were hurling at him began to deflect on her shield and hit the rioters square in the face, they backed away.

"Go home, the lot of you." she shouted. "And you..." she turned to face Malfoy, "... Come with me."

Without listening to his protest, she dragged him down the stairs and out of the door.

It had begun to rain while she had talked to Bill Weasley.

"I do not need help from you." Malfoy snarled.

"No? Did you think if you screamed any more girly they would lay off you?" she bit back.

She hated this man. She always had.

"Filthy Mudblood." he spat.

Hermione's hand twitched to her face.

Naturally, her glamour charm had broken again.

In one fluid motion, Hermione turned around, her hands on the front of his cloak, pushing him back against the wall of the Leaky Cauldron.

Now that she had already revealed herself, she might as well make use of the fact that he knew her.

"Mudblood, am I?" she snarled.

It took all her self-control not to hex him, or spit into his face.

"Better that than a known Death Eater."

"_Former_." he snarled, struggling to free himself. "The minister agreed that my arrest was premature."

Hermione snorted.

"Well why." Malfoy drawled, "One of your little friends even provided evidence for my _innocence_."

She wanted to cut off his tongue for lying so obviously.

"Shut up, pet." she placed the tip of her wand underneath his pointy chin.

Oh how she wanted to curse it off.

"What did you call..."

"Where is Kingsley?" she spat.

"Kingsley?" Malfoy looked dumbstruck.

"Shacklebolt. Minister for Magic, don't play dumb."

"How should I know!" Malfoy exclaimed. "My trial on monday was the last time I spoke to the Minister."

"He's been missing, and I know it has to do with your lot." Hermione said matter of factly.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

She pressed the tip of her wand against his pale skin.

A thick vein was throbbing right underneath the slender wood, as if trying to push her away.

In an attempt to keep her wand in sight, Malfoy had gone cross eyed.

"I don't know!" he roared.

"Prove it." she said.

"How the... I haven't had any contact with my... my former... with Death Eaters for the past year!"

She wondered if that sounded ridiculous even to his own ears.

Another push with the tip of her wand against his Adam's apple, and he whimpered in pain.

She could not have cared less.

"And at the ministry, it was not you who informed the Death Eaters about my whereabouts?" Hermione smiled sweetly.

"Death Eaters... what, what are you talking about? Have you gone insane?" he shouted.

Hermione pushed again, her wand cutting into his skin, pressing onto his windpipe.

Malfoy took in a sharp, raspy breath.

"I swear, I am telling the truth!"

It was only then that Hermione realized that his hair had gone white on the edges. His face was sunken, almost gray.

He appeared to have aged several years since the battle of Hogwarts.

Or perhaps even longer than that.

She let go off his cloak.

Who was she, threatening old, sickly men?

She imagined the horror he must have felt with the Dark Lord taking residence at his Manor, and the near loss of his son.

"If that's a lie, you'll regret it." she promised.


	5. Chapter 4

Hoi, and thanks to everyone who reviewed! So, here's the same deal as last week, ten reviews, and you'll have the next chapter on wednesday. Cheers, Phil.

* * *

"I met Lucius Malfoy." Hermione told Snape several days later.

"So I heard." Snape replied without opening his eyes.

They had been too preoccupied to see each other after the incident.

While Hermione had stayed at the Leaky Cauldron to gather information from witches and wizards passing, Snape had inquired into the circles of former Death Eaters who were now on the run.

A melody filled the usually quiet room.

Like everything about Severus Snape, the notes he played were dark, but beautiful.

"He should be in prison." Hermione replied slowly.

It seemed as though Snape was in a trance, his eyes closed, his fingertips restlessly moving over his instrument. She had never imagined that he would be willing to play, even less so when he knew that she was around.

Her eyes followed those long, fine fingers which danced easily from key to key as though they were not connected to a hand at all. The motion was enthralling, beautiful even. Shortly, Hermione wondered how those smooth fingers would feel ghosting over her skin.

The thought was disturbing, yet she found that she was no averse.

She did not want to consider why, if she thought about it, the idea became exciting, enticing even.

She quickly dragged her mind back to the matter at hand.

"If the hero of Hogwarts says so." Snape taunted, but continued playing calmly.

"Don't call me that." she snapped.

It was hard to stay angry at him, knowing that he could produce such a pure melody with those fingers who had cold-heartedly killed an old man.

Hermione pushed the thought away.

He had had no choice but to committ this murder, and Dumbledore had even instructed him to do so.

He was not to blame.

The corner's of Snape's lips twitched upward so slightly that Hermione thought she had imagined it.

„The war still haunts you." he observed.

„That's rich, coming from you."

Hermione dragged one of the chairs from the table next to his stool.

"What, by Merlin, are you doing, Miss Granger?" he snarled.

Some of his fingers had slipped, breaking the flow of the melody.

He hastily corrected himself.

"You've been alone for too long." Hermione said simply, before placing her hands next to his.

"How dare you, insolent..."

"You say that too often. Perhaps you should try finding new ways to insult me."

She began her first notes tentatively.

It had been a while since she had last seen a piano.

There was one in her parents' house in London, but it was impractical to visit one's home while being on the run and fighting a war.

Snape snarled at her, but did not push her away.

She aligned her fingers with his, and joined into the melody he determined.

"He was there, at the Leaky Cauldron." Hermione begun as soon as her fingers moved automatically, „They were going to tear him apart for being, you know, a former Death Eater and that. He denies any association with Kingsley's disappearance, or the assault on my family."

"Naturally." said Snape.

For several minutes, the only sound was the melody they were playing together.

Everything seemed to fit.

Their fingers flit over the keys easily, working side by side, on rare occasions even touching.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Lucius Malfoy lost the influence he once had, the honor, the admiration of the Death Eaters." Snape explained.

Hermione's fingers came to a halt.

"You believe him?"

Snape seemed unaffected by her bemused stare.

"There is nothing to disbelieve." he sneered, "Lucius did not merely fall from Grace on one side."

Hermione found this almost ridiculous.

"You tell me that one of Voldemort's most faithful henchmen has been, suddenly, deserted by his friends?"

"He chose his own path." said Snape slowly, "The moment he chose Draco over the Dark Lord, his reputation was damaged irreparably."

"But Draco is his son!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Exactly." Snape frowned, "Think of Bellatrix. How glad and grateful she would have been for the possibility of offering her children to him."

Hermione shuddered. Bellatrix Lestrange was easily the last person she wanted to think about.

"Do not attempt to deny those experiences, it will worsen them." he continued, as though he had read her mind.

"I would have a hard time trying." Hermione said, rolling up the sleeve of her cloak to reveal the white, shining scars that still carried the word _Mudblood_.

When she looked up again, Snape was watching her, his face motionless.

"I know it's cruel." Hermione said, "I just sometimes wish that I had never gone on that adventure."

"And let the Dark Lord win?" Snape hissed, "I was under the impression that Gryffindor students were brave, if foolish."

"Of course not."

Hermione felt guilty for even saying it now.

Snape was still watching her intently, and then, after several minutes had passed, he turned away.

"Carry those scars with pride." he said, "They are who you are."

His jaw clenched, and he continued with the air of a man in great pain.

"Had it not been for you and your friends, no doubt the Dark Lord would have won."

Hermione felt her jaw drop.

Had Snape just complimented her, and Harry, and Ron?

"It was not my intention to flatter you. I was merely making a statement." he snarled irritably, "Every unwitting, unknowing fool could have done it, had he been at the right place at the right time."

Hermione smiled.

"We couldn't have done it without you."

Did Snape just flinch at her words?

When she looked again, he had turned back toward the piano.

"I would rather you did not mention myself in connection with Potter."

_Still bitter_, Hermione thought.

"I had hoped after you saved his life several times, you would give up this childish feud." she said.

"Do not test my patience, Miss Granger. Potter is an insolent, arrogant little twat who believes that everything should be handed to him..."

"Alright, fine." Hermione said, "Never mind I asked."

They sat in silence for several minutes longer.

Hermione could not shake the feeling that his outburst over Harry had been a mere warning to herself. That Snape tolerated her presence, perhaps even enjoyed it, but that there were some topics that were taboo and should not be breached.

Thankfully, he had closed her eyes again, so she could watch the emotions flit over his face without him noticing.

There was a lot of anger when he began to play again, but it gradually ebbed into something relaxed that seemed almost content.

Just as the last trace of tension had left Snape's features, a silvery ball of light appeared at the window sill, drifted through the solid glass and took on the appearance of a large, feline predator on Snape's rug.

Hermione recognized Kingsley's lynx patronus immediately.

Relief washed over her, despite the secretive manner.

If his patronus showed up here, it must mean that he was still alive, and, hopefully, unhurt.

No sooner than she had made the connection, the giant cat spoke with Kingsley's deep, slow voice.

"Meet me at St Mungo's at half five."

* * *

Kingsley was waiting for them, or rather her, in the great foyer that was the entrance of St. Mungo's hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

He did not comment on the tall blond man at her side.

Snape had insisted on coming with them, first coaxing her with his insight into Death Eaters, and after she had informed him that things might have changed, with the fact that he was a highly established Legilimens.

"_And if not that_." he had snapped at her, "_I am quite an exceeding duelist, if I do say so myself_."

"Why didn't you, you know, send me a message or anything? The Prophet's been driving me nuts for the past days. Although..." she smiled shyly, "I should have known that an Ex-Auror would not be defeated so quickly."

Kingsley's lips curved into a smile.

"Your faith in me is strong." he chuckled, "Unfortunately, this means so are your expections."

Hermione beamed back at him.

He wasn't wrong about that.

Now that she knew that he was well, she was more interested in finding out why he had chosen to meet her at the hospital.

"You're not hurt, are you?" she asked. "I mean... this _is_ a hospital after all."

Kingsley brushed her off.

"No." he said slowly, "You'll see soon."

Snape had been awfully quiet since they had arrived, and Hermione gazed over to him to see that he was frowning at his shoes intently. He looked quite different with his blond glamoured hair and the stubbles of beard that covered his neck.

"Ward Fifty-five." he said.

"What's inside?" Hermione asked.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow.

"See for yourself." Kingsley pushed the door open with one hand and stepped aside to let her pass.

Inside was another door fully made of charmed one-way glass, for the nurses to keep an eye on him at all times. This had to be the part of St Mungo's where they kept injured criminals.

The room behind the door was empty, safe for a single bed to the right hand side which was occupied by a rough-looking man. He seemed to be wringing his hands, his lips moving endlessly as though he was in deep conversation.

Hermione recognized him immediately. This was the man who had tortured her parents alongside Fenrir Greyback, she realized.

Anger began to bubble inside her stomach, and it took all her will not to run in there and throw curses at him for what he had done.

Snape drew in a sharp breath behind her.

"This is Rabastan Lestrange." Kingsley explained, "We have reason to believe that he is one of the persons responsible for the torture that has been inflicted on your parents. The Backtracking charm we used on his wand after his apprehension showed that he had cast a _Legilimens_ a few days earlier, coinciding with the date you went to retrieve your parents."

Hermione edged closer.

Rabastan Lestrange had an almost waxen face that might have been beautiful had it not been for the ashen colour and his empty leer.

"How did you find him?"

"At Borgin and Burkes, the reason for my _absence from office_." Kingsley grinned at her sheepishly. "I often like to forget, or pretend to forget that I am no longer Head Auror."

He paused.

"Especially when friends are in need of help."

Hermione felt her cheeks colour.

"He was the one who attacked Miss Granger's parents? Are you certain of your insight-fulness in the matter?" Snape snarled suddenly.

Both Hermione and Kingsley almost jolted, having forgotten that they had a companion.

"We have reason to believe so. During the apparition tests we performed on him, we found that he has traveled cross-continental in the past few days. I'm sure Hermione can testify."

"He is the man I saw." Hermione said, "I'm certain of it."

She approached the bed further.

There was no doubt that this was the man whom she had seen in Sydney the week before.

"Can we interrogate him?"

Kingsley nodded, opening the door and stepping aside to let her go first.

Rabastan Lestrange looked up at the sound of the opening door, straight at her.

A shudder ran over her spine as she stepped into the room.

He was staring, bewildered, as though he could not quite place her...

"There is just one little problem." said Kingsley, and all the humor had vanished from his voice. "Given your extraordinary performance in spells, it was not easy to extract any information from him after you have _dealt_ with his memory."

There was no accusation in his voice, but Hermione immediately felt as if she had been slapped in the face with her own hands.

"You see, when we found him, he appeared to believe that the Dark Lord was still at large, and he needed to go to Borgin and Burkes to assist young Draco Malfoy." Kingsley cleared his throat, "Naturally, we shut down the shop just short a few days after... well, you are familiar with the incident. However, he keeps repeating certain phrases..."

"I must remember to tell Fenrir..." he said suddenly.

His gaze had gone hazy, and he sounded far away.

"What does that mean?" Hermione whispered.

"Rabastan Lestrange is the brother of Rodolphus Lestrange, husband to the late Bellatrix Black." to her surprise, it had been Snape who answered.

Hermione kept watching the man on the bed.

"Soon is the time in which my master's wish will be fulfilled..." Rabastan broke into a mad cackle that was highly reminiscent of that of his sister in law. Only after several minutes, he was able to recollect himself. He seemed to have forgotten about the three persons standing at his bed.

Then, his gaze fell upon Hermione again, and his eyes widened. His features twisted into a grimace, he stared at her hatefully.

"You!" he shouted, and cackled again, "Soon you will be ours, and join our cause... if you want it or not... with your little friends at our mercy, you will have no choice, little bird."

Hermione stared.

Rabastan's gaze became unfocused again.

"_I must remember to tell Fenrir_..."

"I'm sorry Hermione." said Kingsley slowly, "This is all I could do."

* * *

Hermione crouched down in front of the fireplace in Severus Snape's living room.

He had said he would not be long, and in the short minutes he had been gone, an inexplicably sudden fear had gripped her.

If the Death Eaters were incapable of inquiring her parents, and thus their chance of finding her had decreased, who was to say that they would not go for her friends next? Harry was no fool, he could handle himself. But Ron, Ron had a full family to take care of, and he had never been as quick as Harry or as smart as her.

She had to warn them before they were targeted, so that they could make the necessary arangements to protect themselves and their families.

The most efficient way to get a hold of Harry had always been to floo in at the Burrow.

She would save herself calling twice, if her assumption that Harry was indeed there was correct.

Hermione threw a hand full of floo powder into the newly crackling fireplace and shouted "The Burrow!"

It took only seconds until she was stairing at the familiar chairlegs and rugs of the Burrow's kitchen again.

"Ron? Harry?" she called.

The sound of several mumbled replies answered her immediately, and then footsteps became audible.

"Hermione?" Ron dropped to his knees to look at her. "Blimey, haven't seen you in ages."

_A week_, Hermione thought.

She was not going to call him on his over-exaggeration, for once.

"How are you Ron?" she said, "Is Harry there with you?"

"Oh. Thought you flooed for me only." his eyes twinkled, "I'll go get him."

Ron returned several minutes later with a disheveled looking Harry, who tried his best to hide the fact that his hair was sticking away from his head on either place.

"Ginny." he said apologetically, "She's become rather wild lately."

"Oi!" Ron ellbowed him in the ribs, "That's my sister you're talking about. Gross."

"We haven't even... nevermind. I think Hermione wanted to say something." Harry hastily drew attention from himself under Ron's deadly glare.

"Thank you, Harry." Hermione frowned, unsure how to begin, which was a first.

Most of the events those days were.

She did not make a habit of lurking in Severus' house, even less so his fireplace.

Especially when, on the run from a bunch of Death Eaters, Severus Snape eventually decided that she was amicable and even played the piano with her.

She had to admitt she quite liked this newfound acquaintance, friendship even, perhaps.

"We were worried. You didn't leave us with much, last time." Harry sounded genuinely concerned. "Given we had no specifics... I did look into the most recent, most suspicious cases I have access to, though. But then Kingsley is gone..."

"Kingsley is fine." Hermione said quickly.

"Never mind that, are _you_ actually alright, 'Mione?"

Hermione ignored this vile shortening of her name, only because Ron sounded distressed.

"Yes."

She tried to avoid thinking about Yaxley's head bursting and his blood and brain matter splattering all over her.

"Actually, no."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and immediately back at her.

She raised a finger when both of them opened their mouths at once.

"I will tell you what I know."

Hermione began with her visit to Australia, and ended on the note that Kingsley was working undercover, skillfully avoiding to inform them of staying with Snape most of the day. She did not want to disclose too much upon them.

"You sound worried." said Harry after she had finished her story.

"Well how would you feel with _his_ lot in your back?" Ron shook his head.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.

They were not going to remind Ron that Harry had experience with that feeling.

"You don't have nightmares, do you?" Harry asked.

"Blimey, you sound like mom." Ron rolled his eyes at him, and then, "He has a point though."

"No nightmares." Hermione was now speaking to Harry directly, "But I still can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. It's been to quiet the past few days, it wont last."

"Isn't it possible that Kingsley's got the last of them?" Harry suggested.

"Unlikely." Hermione said, "He would have told me."

"So you're seeing him?" Ron piped up.

"No I'm not _seeing_ him."

"But he knows where you are."

"Well, not directly."

Patronuses had the ability to find people they were asked to find, just like owls. Sometimes, Hermione wondered just how those entities did that.

"May we know where you are?" Harry said quietly.

"Nooo, DON'T!"

A scream became audible somewhere in the back, and Hermione almost jolted out of the fireplace.

Ron threw his head back to look over his shoulder.

"Blimey, Ginny, stop making a racket, we're talking here." he shouted, rolled his eyes and turned back to Hermione's head in the flames.

"She's been having trouble with Pig for a while. Says he hates her now. Don't think Pig could do that." he shrugged, "Provided he loves just about everyone, and everything. Has a growing affection for that old ghoul in our attic."

Somewhere on her side of the fireplace, noises had emerged.

While Hermione knew that only Snape and her knew about the not-so unoccupied house at Spinner's End, she could not shake the feeling of an impending threat.

And if someone had killed Severus, and tortured the information about her whereabouts from him beforehand, she would rather expect them with her wand drawn than with her head in the fire and her butt in the air.

"Listen." she said hastily, "I have to go, but.. no Ron, let me finish! You have to hide."

The noise was growing louder now, the distant echo of footsteps, and the sliding of a long cloak on the ground.

Hermione's heart was beating rapidly now.

"It's not up for discussion." she said at the sight of Harry's half parted lip, "There is no telling who they will go for next, and while I know you both are proficient in spells, I want …. No, I _need_ you to promise that you will be safe."

Too late.

A cool hand had found her shoulder, and she was yanked backward roughly, breaking the connection.

"Are you completely insane, girl?" Snape shouted at her. "Do you not realize what you have just done?"

"What?"

Hermione was dumbstruck, even as he pulled her to her feet, perhaps to get a better view at her distressed features.

"Over the past two years, this house has been empty. Just that!" he exclaimed. "The ministry has no knowledge of my survival!"

Only slowly, the full extend of what he was trying to say dawned on her.

"As I am sure you are aware, several former Death Eaters remain immune to the searches Shacklebolt has conducted, and very inside of the ministry's most secret departments. Including the Department for Control of Magical Transport. They would be most delighted to lay hands on either of us, the Traitor and the _Hero_." He spat the word, his eyes rolling dangerously, once more giving him the slightly cross look of a madman, "What do you believe will they do once they find out that..."

There was rapping noise coming from the front of the house. Slowly, the flames in the fireplace turned into a wonderfully calm, yet threatening green. There was a swirl of red robes that could only belong to an Auror.

Hermione did not need to think.

She grabbed Snape's wrist without a comment and spun on the spot.

* * *

"You expect us to share a room?" Severus croaked.

"You said it yourself!" Hermione countered.

Something inside her brain was heating up quickly, and the red veil of shame and anger was creeping on her cheeks equally strong.

"You cannot possibly pay a visit to Gringotts to retrieve money for another. The Goblins have been ever closer to the ministry after the war, and the amendmends to properly integrate them into the magical society." she continued.

It had been mere minutes since their narrow escape from certain capture at Spinner's End.

Snape looked outraged.

"Why does this not fit into your tiny brain?" he exclaimed, "We are on the run, not supposed to have contact to our little friends!"

"I wanted to warn them!" Hermione snarled.

"At some point I had begun to believe that you are less of a dunderhead than are your _friends_."

Hermione decided she had had enough, even though this near compliment, coming from Snape, was undeniably flattering, no matter how insulting it was formulated.

"Just because you don't have anyone you care about!" she shot at him.

Someone was slamming hard against the wall on the other side at their voices.

Both of them jumped, alert, their wands drawn.

"That..." Snape said slowly, as though each word was causing him pain, "... Is not correct."

"Someone who's _alive_." she spat, dropping her wand onto the bedside table.

Snape was standing there, his face impassive as though she had just struck him and the pain had not yet set in.

He did not deny her accusation, and Hermione was sure that that just made it worse. Perhaps she had been a fool to believe that they had, in certain ways, grown closer in their shared misery of not wanting to be found.

Perhaps she had begun to think that he at least found her company acceptable, if not pleasant. He had even volunteered to join her for the short trip to St. Mungo's, and attempted, in his own, bold way, to calm her down after Yaxley had exploded in her face.

If he wanted to leave now, so be it.

She would be fine without him.

Wordlessly, she stripped down to her underwear and slipped under the covers.

She had not particularly looked forward to sharing a bed with him either, she thought, even as angry, hurt tears begun to press against the back of her eyeball.

The silence pressed against her eardrums.

It became harder to lay still, but she did not want to turn around.

Snape could have apparated soundly, or died without her noticing.

Then, suddenly, the other end of the bed dipped and Hermione had to bite onto the blanket to restrain herself from gasping.

There was no talk afterward.

Only when Hermione woke up in darkness, after several hours of restless sleep, she turned her head to see if she was alone in the room.

Snape was lying on top of the covers, on the other side of the bed.

He was still draped in his robes, traveling cloak, and shoes.


	6. Chapter 5

Hi, and oh my god, I totally thought I'd already uploaded this chapter. Well even if, I'd be totally late, and I can only hope you'll all forgive me. My excuses? The usual. I was busy with finals, and the likes.

* * *

I don't want to make a large speech, just say that I'm sorry! And here goes the next chapter, enjoy!

Severus Snape paced frantically in front of his house at Spinner's End, or what was left of it.

The main part of the house had fallen in, and Hermione had volunteered to go inside while he made sure the roof did not fall on her head. She was not certain that was wise, considering that it was mainly her fault that Snape was now homeless. He could always just pass it off as an accident.

They had only come back because of Severus in the first place. He wanted to determine the amount of damage the attack had caused, perhaps even recover what could be recovered. He had been forced to flee in nothing the clothes he had worn that day and his wand.

Needless to say, the Death Eaters had done proper work for once.

Where before had been the front door was now a door-shaped hole and a lock protruding from the right side. Behind it where the remains of a corridor that had collapsed in itself, its walls chipped and no longer able to withstand the pressure from the roof.

Hermione and Snape had to wait for nightfall, cast a disillusionment charm, and had taken polyjuice potion, just in case. Before the war, even Hermione would have deemed this behavior paranoid, but things had changed.

"_Explosion at Spinner's End_." Snape read aloud from the Muggle newspaper in his hand, "_Experts exclude arson, suggest it was a gas leak_."

He threw the newspaper at her chest, and Hermione caught it in both hands, carefully unfolding it.

"_Thursday evening, an explosion shook the busy suburbian area of Spinner's End in London. Fortunately, the house in question was empty, had been in disuse for several years. Neighbours state that they never knew someone lived in the house, only that it was formerly used for gatherings of a Jehovah's Witness' branch. It is believed that the cult grew restless in their above-ground location and went on to look for greener gras, or denser earth_." Hermione rolled her eyes at the bad joke, "_No indication of arson was found on the grounds. Experts believe that the point of origin of this explosion was a gas leak in the kitchen of the house_."

"Some experts are those." she said in an attempt to draw his attention from the severity of the problem. She would have smiled, if it was not for fear he would immediately tear her head off.

He had that mad glint in his eyes, his arms hanging a bit to the side as though he was about to take flight. At her comment, his fingers twitched toward the wand stored underneath his clothes.

"Is that all you have to utter, Miss Granger?" he snarled. "No, do not answer. I have to concentrate."

Shortly, Hermione wondered if he was focusing on how best to hide her body afterward.

The pacing continued for several more minutes in which Snape took deep, calming breaths while his eyes rolled madly in their sockets and his fingers clenched and unclenched.

"Congratulations." he drawled after several minutes of silent pacing, "In your stupidity, you have succeeded in making me homeless."

"That wasn't my intention." said Hermione in a small voice.

_Oh he was angry_.

"Foolish girl. Intention or not, it hardly matters in the face of this!" he gestured toward the pile of debris that had once been his house.

"I'm sorry."

"What _use_ is that to me?" Snape croaked.

He waved his wand and the crumbled wall of the corridor gave a spasm before another large portion of ceiling rumbled down onto it.

While Hermione could understand his anger, he was being tactless. She would have chosen her house to get destroyed any time over the torture of her parents. He was not being fair, considering that she could not possibly have predicted this.

Hermione bit her tongue not to lash out at him and turned toward the back of the house. There was a small yard, and a resilient door that still stood upright. It reminded her on the back-entrance of the Weasley house, with discarded Wellingtons and Garden Gnomes hopping about the staircase.

Somewhere, Snape was speaking to her, but Hermione lost herself in a trance.

What would she not give for having the old times back when she and Ginny were having a laugh while de-gnoming the Weasley garden?

After the war, there was always a shadow looming over them now. The tiny screams of the gnomes being thrown over the hedge, echoing in her ears and becoming louder and louder until they were human, mixed with debris falling and searing heat from the Fiendfyre burning across her skin.

Even with the threat of the Dark Lord gone, his memory clung to them like putrid essence, impossible to shake off.

She reconsidered that.

Was it not also a gift to be on the run? Had it not brought desirable changes?

Severus Snape was alive, despite all odds.

Would she have ever found him had it not been for the unfortunate event in Sydney?

Hermione almost chuckled at the ridiculous thought, as her eyes searched for the bat-like figure of her former Professor in the darkness.

How could she think that Severus Snape's presence made up for the torture of her parents?

How could she think that their almost amicable bond was worth living on the run?

"Miss Granger." snarled a velvet voice in her ear.

"Severus?"

His jaw clenched, unclenched, and he rolled his eyes.

"I shall not insist anymore for you to stop calling me Severus. I see it is a fruitless endeavor to attempt persuading me to address me with my proper title."

Hermione smiled at that.

"We shared a bed, and you expect me to use your last name?"

Snape sneered.

"We shared out of necessity." he said.

"We still _shared_." Hermione replied.

She could see Snape struggling with himself again.

Although a brilliant Occlumens, at least from what she had heard, she found it fairly simple to read him.

In this moment, he wanted to snap at her for being cheeky, but there was something else in his mind that he would like to discuss like a civilized adult.

After several seconds of inner struggle, Severus resigned with a glare at her and held out his arm.

"Where are we going?"

"The Leaky Cauldron." he snarled impatiently, and she took his arm.

* * *

"I need you to focus. Can you remember anything odd, anyone who might have listened in without you noticing?"

"No." Hermione said.

"Show me."

Hermione opened her mind to him again.

"You are not focusing!" Snape snarled after a while. "I cannot hold on to a single memory if your mind keeps changing them."

Hermione suddenly found it impossible to focus. It was as though there was something looming in her mind, something that danced the delicate edge between conscious and unconscious, something she might have forgotten.

She grasped for the memory in her head, but it was equally slippery as Happiness in the presence of Dementors.

"I do not need help from you." Snape spat.

And suddenly, Hermione remembered what Lucius Malfoy had said to her several days previously.

"_One of your little friends even provided evidence for my innocence_..." She had wanted to cut his tongue off at that point.

She was on her feet at once, pacing on the dirty, old rug in front of the bed.

"What has gotten into you?" Snape drawled.

"When I was met Malfoy..." she began, "He said something. Something about evidence having been given to him by someone from the order. That got him out of prison."

"Ginny Weasley." said Snape at once.

Hermione felt her jaw drop.

"What?" she hissed.

"If I am correct, which I do not doubt, you were about to ask whether I know who was the one speaking in favor of Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"I already answered you." Snape replied, relishing in her shocked, confused expression.

"Why would Ginny... she hates Malfoy! Do you even remember what he did to her in her first year?"

"Naturally." Snape drawled, "I can only guess that Potter's hero complex is infectious."

Hermione found that hard to believe. She begun pacing again, fully aware that it made Snape insane if she did that.

"Show me your memory." he drawled after several minutes.

"What?"

"The last time, it possible we overlooked crucial details."

Hermione dropped on the chair opposite of him and opened her mind before he breached the barrier around it.

It almost felt familiar now to have him inside her.

"Not this one." he said sharply as she summoned her encounter with Malfoy. "The one where you spoke to your friends about Australia."

Hermione did as she was told.

She did not know what he was looking for, what they could possibly find in there after having filtered it several times to no avail.

He snorted very un-snape-like after several seconds.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"All this time we have been blind." he said, "Pay attention to your right when you mention the whereabouts of your parents."

Hermione frowned, but followed his advice nonetheless.

Something just outside her vision was moving there in the corner of the Weasley's kitchen.

She concentrated to get a better view until her eyes began to physically hurt from the strain.

There was definitely something, someone there.

But who?

Hermione was about to sigh in frustration when her gaze fell onto the mirror to her left.

She could feel Snape's presence following her gaze to the blank, glass surface until she had a clear view into the corner she had been incapable of seeing with her own eyes.

A figure was standing there, small against the side wall of the cupboard in which Mrs. Weasley kept all her pans and pots, her red hair framing a finely carved, pale face perfectly.

"Ginny!" she gasped.

She withdrew from her mind immediately.

Snape staggered, losing balance as he was fiercely kicked out of her memories.

"She was also at the ministry." Hermione frowned, "On Monday." she paused, "That was the day Malfoy had his trial! She told me it was to move her father's belongings up to the new office. She could have multi-tasked."

But why would she help Malfoy? Why would she assist the Death Eaters?

It was hard to believe that Ginny would have sold her out.

"Or lied." Snape snarled, brushing creases out of his cloak irritably.

Hermione's racing pulse in her ears made it difficult to focus.

She tried to piece together the pieces.

Something Kingsley had said.

"The Imperius." she mumbled to herself.

Snape frowned.

"We're leaving. Now." Hermione was on her feet.

"We can not." Snape drawled.

"What do you mean, can not?"

He was wasting time.

"If we presume correctly, Ginevra Weasley is under the Imperius, most possibly unknowing of what has been done to her." he drawled.

"So we will break it as soon as we get there." Hermione said.

"And lose all the information we could gain from this?"

"She is my friend!"

This was outrageous.

She had known Severus Snape was heartless, and had she ever thought they could become amicable, she regretted it now.

"I am aware." he said calmly, with no intention to move.

"Well you can stay here." she bit, "Or go to hell, or wherever else they'll take you. I'm going to rescue Ginny."

She was about to apparate, when his menacingly slow voice emerged yet again.

"I am positive you are familiar with brain stroms?"

Hermione halted.

"No... Yes." she blushed. "Vaguely."

She hated to admit that he knew something she did not, although she realized she was being delusional.

"The collapse of the most complex organ of the body, sometimes known to cause Death." he drawled.

"Why are you telling me this?" she hissed.

Time was ticking.

"Because if an Imperius broken incorrectly, or intentionally by its originator to do the most harm possible, there is a high possibility the victim will be subject to this phenomenon." he snarled, "Even much so when in emotional distress at the time, which I believe Miss Weasley might perhaps be if you disclose upon her her responsibility about the actions taken against your parents, and the Minister for magic."

Hermione gaped.

"It's not her fault." she said after several seconds.

"Regardless, you must know best whether she will blame herself or not, Miss Granger?"

_Damn_. He had her there.

Hermione dropped back down onto her chair in defeat.

"So what's the plan?"

* * *

"I'm worried about Ginny." said Hermione as she stripped.

She had sent an owl to Bill Weasley, and one to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"There is nothing we can do tonight, so we might as well get some sleep before tomorrow."

His features distorted at the thought as though he was in pain.

Snape and her had agreed that there was no way around admitting he was alive, because he refused straight out to let her deal with Ginny alone.

She could not determine whether he meant to protect her, which was flattering, or if he assumed she would not succeed on her own, which was irritating.

It had gotten slightly colder, and Hermione slipped under the covers quickly.

Snape stood on the foot end of the bed, slowly removing his upper garments.

It was a shame that the fireplace was in his back, hiding him in shadow.

Hermione propped herself up onto her ellbows.

_Not to get a better view_, she told herself.

Freed from his heavy black cloak and robes, Severus Snape was much less bat-like than he appeared to be in full clothing.

His arms and legs were slender, bordering on skinny, in stark contrast to her own curvy form.

It was a shame when he decided not to remove his shirt and trousers.

He did not speak.

"What?" Hermione asked after several minutes.

He replied her gaze, trying his best to keep his face impartial, but it was not the usual sneer she had gotten used to. He seemed reluctant, the flames in his back making it impossible to read his expression.

Only after several minutes, Hermione had an idea.

Was he embarrassed?

"Not going to sleep, then?" she asked.

He averted his eyes from her face.

"I dare say you would prefer if I took the chair?"

The corners of her lips twitched upward.

Now that was news.

Severus Snape became a shy little boy when met with a semi-naked, young woman?

"The bed is rather wide. I wouldn't mind sharing." Hermione said.

It was almost shocking to see an undecided look cross his face as he contemplated joining her.

Was it wrong to think that was cute?

Very slowly, he made his way around the bed to his side and slipped under the covers.

"I can hardly be the first girl you're sleeping with?" Hermione could not quite banish the mirth out of her voice.

"Do not call it that." Snape mumbled.

He tried his best to fill his voice with venom, but failed nonetheless.

"What?" Hermione was grinning now, "I am?"

Snape frowned at her.

"Yes." he said irritably, "Now is that a problem?"

Hermione was amazed.

She had never thought he could become so defensive.

He begun sliding his legs from the bed again in an attempt to flee.

"No. Don't."

Before she knew what she was doing, she had captured his arm in her hands, ignoring the disgusted look he sent in her general direction as their skin touched.

She did not want him to leave.

He snarled at her.

"If you stay, I'll tell you a secret." she said.

"What makes you think I am interested?" he said after a pause.

"You're still here." Hermione smiled.

Snape's jaw clenched the way it always did when he was irritated.

She had bested him, he had to hate that.

"You'll have to come closer though."

Hermione let go off his arm and shuffled back to her side of the bed.

As expected, Snape did not follow her but lied there, his arms pressed to his side, stiff like a log.

Hermione rolled onto her stomach and closed the distance between them.

"You're the first man I'm sleeping with too." she whispered into his ear, "In a bed, that is."

She blushed.

"Not that I slept with a man somewhere else than a bed yet, I mean."

This was not going very well.

"Do not think of me as dense, Miss Granger." he said, "Despite your incompetence in articulating yourself, I do know what you intended to say."

Hermione huffed.

This really was not easy.

Any other man would have been grateful to have a young girl in his bed.

Never mind that they would have never dreamed about calling her by her last name in such an intimate situation.

Even Ron would have been less factual about sharing a bed.

Hermione rolled back onto her side.

If there was one person she really did not want to think about when sharing a bed with Severus Snape, it was Ron Weasley.

He would have a heart attack if he knew.

"Severus?"

He shifted irritably.

"Yes?" he drawled.

Tentatively, she touched his arm.

It twitched, but he did not pull it away.

"I haven't slept without shoes for weeks."

He frowned at her with an unspoken question.

"I guess I wanted to say that... I'm glad you're here." she slid her fingers down to his and squeezed them lightly.

She almost wanted to keep holding his hand, but that might have made him run away screaming.

Instead, she tucked it back to her side and closed her eyes.

It would have been nice to have some kind of affirmation, but that was perhaps too much to ask for after she had made him homeless the other day.

Several minutes passed, and then Snape's fingers wrapped securely around her own.

She bit down on her lower lip to avoid gasping in surprise.

Perhaps, he was not as averse against her presence either.

* * *

"Hermione! I thought you'd never come back!"

Ginny's eyes fell on her companion, and immediately her brows distorted into a frown.

"Wh-What... _You_?"

Snape stared at her accusingly, and Hermione pushed herself inbetween them.

"There is time to explain." she said, looking at Bill for assistance.

"Come on Ginny, let them sit down first." he said with a smile.

It was fake.

They couldn't let Ginny know that yet.

"Right." Ginny mumbled, leading the way into the kitchen, throwing glances over her shoulder.

Bill had been much less astonished by the fact that Snape had survived. Hermione guessed that he must have known they never found his body, and drawn his conclusions from that.

They sat down around Mrs. Weasley's kitchen table, when Ron gallopped down the stairs to greet them.

He had his wand out the instant he laid eyes on Snape, and his round face distorted into a grimace of hatred.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he reconsidered, "Why the fuck are you alive?"

"Thank you Ronald." said Hermione.

"But he's... he's dead! Why... What... What's he doing in our kitchen?!"

"I was about to ask the same." said Ginny irritably.

Hermione wondered why she had not noticed the dark shadows under her friends eyes, and the way her words seemed a twinge too harsh for even her. It seemed like the first time that she really saw Ginny, her features sharper than they used to be, and her expression inexplicably gloomily despite the warmth of the day and the light dress she was wearing.

Unconsciously, Hermione's gaze drifted to her left arm, but there was no snake-tongued skull. She was being paranoid.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"What, what?" said Ron.

"'Mione, you're staring at me."

"Oh right, sorry. Lost in thought." Hermione improvised, "What with finding out Severus is still ali..."

"Severus?!" Ron exclaimed. "Is he Sevy now?"

The bitterness in Ron's voice told Hermione that he was still jealous, that he stilled admired her, and liked her more than he should, although she had explained that her feelings had changed. She assumed that part of him still hoped that she would change her mind, although he knew she would not.

Severus snarled at him.

"Do be careful Weasley, just because I tolerate your presence, it does not mean my patience is unlimited."

"This is _my_ house! _Our_ house." he added at a pointed look from Bill.

"Do believe me, I am not here by choice." said Severus.

_Not quite true_, thought Hermione.

One could think he knew nothing about Severus' spying for their side in the war.

Some things never changed.

"Ron, do us a favor." said Bill amicably.

Ron turned toward him.

"Shut up." said Bill.

Only grudgingly, Ron obliged. Hermione was sure that, for the most part, it was because his curiousity about Severus' survival was even bigger than his hatred for the man.

They settled on several chairs, only Severus remained standing.

"We'd like to talk to you about something, Ginny." began Hermione, just as they had rehearsed.

For a split second after Hermione had finished, it looked as though Ginny was about to bolt. Her eyes flickered confoundedly from her to her brothers, back to her, and then onto Severus. In the end, her eyes settled on her best friend.

"And you need the whole family for that?" despite her large grin, Hermione did not miss the hint of insecurity in her voice.

"It's important." said Ginny.

"Don't tell me you're getting married to _him_." she joked.

Hermione smiled at her friend's imagination. Although Severus was rather handsome these days, he was still the cold, sneering git that they knew so well from the dungeons in which he taught. While Hermione found it hard to imagine herself on the altar with him, that was mainly because the thought of Severus binding himself for life was ridiculous. Unless the witch's name was Lily Evans.

Hermione sighed and brushed the thoughts into the back of her mind. Now was hardly the time to ponder just why the thought disturbed her so much.

"You're not serious?!" Ginny's eyes had become round as dishes.

Behind her, Hermione could feel Severus freezing, before he hastily took a step away from her.

"Not quite." Hermione chuckled, "We were only wondering how things are with Harry."

Severus had instructed her to ask about something personal first, something that would elicit emotion in Ginny. If done correctly, it gave the _Imperius_'ed victim strength to fight the curse.

"Oh. Do you mean like.. you know..." she looked at her brothers unsurely, and then at Snape, "W-Why would you suddenly ask that?"

"You've seemed distant lately." said Bill.

Ron, who had only gaped at them for the past few minutes, twisting and turning his head to look at all of them, raised an eyebrow.

"Did you split up?" he sounded both relieved and as though he was considering hurting Harry badly.

"N-No... I don't know what you..."

"Ginny, I want you to think." Hermione said imploringly, her hands catching one of Ginny's, "When was the last time you saw Harry?"

"Uhm..." Ginny stared at her, "That's none of your business!"

Ginny pulled her hand back and crossed them in front of her chest, unmoving.

"Just tell me when you last saw Harry." Hermione said dully. "It is important that you remember."

The knuckles of Ginny's fists had gone white, and she stared at Hermione wide-eyed and confused. At last, Ginny dropped her head in defeat.

"I... I..." Ginny's eyes flickered, "I can't... it... I don't know..."

"Are you sure everything is okay?" Hermione pressed on.

"Nosy bitch! Isn't it enough that you constantly torture us with your advice, even if we don't ask for it?" she hissed angrily, all confusion suddenly gone from her voice.

Even though Hermione knew that this was not her best friend, the words slightly stung. She was grateful when Bill placed a hand upon her shoulder, and Ron stared at Ginny as though his sister had just slapped her.

"Don't catch mum talking like that..." Ron mumbled, clearly unwilling to get involved with his angry sister, but at the same time feeling the need to protect Hermione.

"It's alright Ron." said Hermione. "Ginny...?"

Snape had warned her that it would be difficult to break through the curse, and that Ginny might become defensive. He had also said that it was necessary to bring back her best friend, to give her the power to overcome the _Imperius_.

"No! Leave me alone! Keep your nose out of my business!" Ginny shrieked in panic, pulling her wand and pointing it at Hermione, "_Reducto_!"

Hermione was too slow to deflect the curse. It lifted her off her feet, throwing her against Severus, and them both into the wall behind.

He hissed, and Hermione groaned in pain as her head collided with the hard wood. Everything was fuzzy for a moment, before Severus moved behind her and extended a hand to pull her up.

Bill and Ron had rushed forward, trying to pry their sister's wand out of her deathgrip.

"Ginny... We all love you, Ginny. It's not your fault." said Bill calmingly.

As though Ginny had been waiting for those words, the battle suddenly began.

Ginny grabbed her head with both hands, mewling loudly as she strained against the Imperius curse on her mind.

"No, no! Get out of my head... GET OUT!" Ginny screeched.

Struggling, Ginny was writhing in agony as she tried to push the commands that came from the Imperius' source out of her head.

Severus had drawn his wand, staring alertly at the girl in the middle of the Weasley kitchen, screaming her head off.

The shaking stopped as soon as it had come, and Ginny slithered down onto the ground. Bill rushed to her side.

"H- Hermione... I... I'm so sorry! It wasn't, I couldn't stop myself, I couldn't it..." Ginny's voice was interrupted by several sobs as her body shook in despair.

"I know. It's not your fault, Gin." Hermione's voice broke.

"But it is! I told them... I told them everything!" she sobbed, "About your parents, and when I saw you in the ministry on monday... and..."

Hermione's words froze in her throat. She intended to reassure her that she was not angry, that it was not her fault that her parents had been tortured and that she had had to leave them yet again, but her lips would not move. She was glad when finally someone spoke, and stunned silent when she realized who had spoken.

"Foolish girl. As much as it pains me to say so, Miss Granger is correct. Under the Imperius, you can hardly be held responsible for the secrets you have disclosed to the Death Eaters." Snape snarled.

"I should have thought more! I... Harry would have been able to shake off the curse."

Snape sneered.

"Your incompetency is a shame." he said.

"Snape..." begun Bill, but Snape silenced him with an irritated jerk of his head.

"Had you any knowledge about Occlumency, you would be aware that it takes a very powerful, determined wizard, who would be well above your own capacity, to perform an _Imperius_ spell on you."

The thought seemed to calm Ginny somewhat, because she quietly rose to her full height.

"I would not have expected this from you, Snape." she spat, "You betrayed our Lord Master, I always knew you were a rotten seed, but he would not believe..."

Hermione felt her jaw drop, and Ron freeze beside her.

"Who is it I am speaking to?" Snape snarled.

Ginny let out a howling laugh, "So clever... little prats... so clever. Figured me out..."

"Ginny..." Ron approached her.

"Don't!" Bill shouted as she raised her wand to her forehead.

"Now, my little game is over, is it not?" said Ginny, "No more use for... _this_."

Whoever was speaking through her indicated Ginny's body.

"_Avada_..."

"No!" Hermione jumped forward, her hands fishing for Ginny's wrist.

Ginny flicked her wand at her, and Hermione crashed down onto the floor with her face first. It felt as though her nose broke on the impact, and Ron gave a startled scream from somewhere behind.

Hermione ignored the blood gushing over her upper lip and into her mouth.

"Ginny, no... Please, not Ginny!" Hermione pleaded. "I'll do anything!"

Ginny snarled, and she could see the screws in her best friend's brain working.

"Foolish.. heroic.. _noble_." Ginny spat the word, "I must be speaking to a Gryffindor.."

Her lips curved into a cruel smile.

"What would you like me to do?" almost casually, Ginny strolled over to the open window, her wand pointed at Hermione's chest in case someone tried to intervene, "Throw her of the window?" she opened one of the cupboards and pulled out a knife, "Stab her in the eyes with this, before I slit open her stomach and let her painfully bleed to death, _Fuck_ her with it?"

Each scenario was punctuated with the knife roaming over Ginny's body to the named places, and Hermione could not help the sick feeling that had emerged in her throat.

"No, please!" Hermione tried to make a dive for the knife, but Ginny waved her wand again, pushing her back onto the ground.

"You are right, it would be a waste." Ginny cackled, "Instead, why don't I use her myself...?"

From the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Snape raising his wand, just as Ginny turned on the spot.

"_Traccio_!" a velvet voice drawled.

When Hermione focused back to her front, Ginny had vanished.

"What did you do to my sister?" Ron was screaming at the top of his lungs.

The question had been directed at Snape, but it was Bill who answered it.

"A tracking spell. If I am correct, we can follow her to wherever she has apparated?" Bill quirked an eyebrow at Severus, "Snape?"

"That is correct." Severus drawled as his eyes fell on Hermione, who was slowly getting to her feet. "Miss Granger?"

Had she not known better, she would have mistaken the sullen quality of his voice for concern. His hand reacher out to touch her shoulder, his other finding her chin.

Hermione met his gaze with determination.

"Severus, I have to save Ginny." she said.

Snape halted, and she knew that he was struggling with himself again, considering his next move. She kept her gaze focused on his, and her small hand found the front of his shirt, above his chest, pleading silently.

He quirked an eyebrow, but did not mention the movement otherwise.

"You can not." he said quietly.

Hermione frowned.

"I have to. It's my fault that she's in danger in the first place."

Severus' jaw clenched as he bit down an acid comment.

„That's just what they want! For you to come find them. Don't think I'm stupid and don't know they're looking for you!" Ron blurted suddenly.

„Yes, thank you, Weasley." drawled Severus, „Miss Granger..."

„I wont hear it!" Hermione replied shrilly. She let go off the fabric beneath her fingers and jumped to her feet, „I'm going, right now, and you wont stop me."

Severus frowned.

"You leave me no choice." he snarled, „I shall join you."

"I'm going with you." said Bill.

"Me too." piped Ron, and when everyone looked at him, "Ruddy hell, she's my sister!"

Bill, Hermione, and Severus looked at each other.

They had known Ron long enough to know that he usually caused more havoc than he was of help. Despite her attempts to ignore her bias, one of the reasons that Hermione's feelings for Ron had changed was that his mind was too simple to keep her interested. She loved him as a friend, but no more than that.

"I don't know, Ron..." she began.

It had always been hard to tell Ron that he was just not smart enough to help them on a rescue mission.

"What, d'you think you can just leave me here while my baby sister is in danger?" Ron roared.

"I... I know you want to go but..."

"You will not be of any help, Weasley. You will merely prolong this mission." said Snape matter of factly.

"_You_..." Ron's eyes rolled dangerously, and he looked as though he was about to strangle Severus, "Shut you up prat!"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"Yes, side with Sevy!" Ron snapped back. "I'm just stupid Ron Weasley, am I not? What's he got that I don't?"

"What?" Hermione shrieked, "You really..."

Bill cleared his throat loudly.

"I am astonished by your stupidity, Weasley." said Severus smoothly, "While your sister is a hostage, yet all you appear to care about are Miss Granger's preferences in potential partners?"

Hermione was too busy glaring at Ron to consider if that meant Severus considered her as something more than an accomplice, or even friend.

Ron blushed fiercely at his comment, "No one's asked you." he snapped defensively.

"I am astonished by your maturity." Severus put into words just what Hermione thought.

Bill nodded at the former potions master gratefully.

"Someone will have to inform mum and dad." he said loudly.

"I'm not staying here!" roared Ron.

"We are wasting time." Severus was already holding out his arm for apparition.

"I'm sorry, Ronald, but you are. Out of us four, you are the least efficient with spells..." Hermione glared when he opened his mouth, "And I am sure you, as the rest of us, want Ginny safe as soon as possible."

"Why not let him go alone, then?" Ron pointed wildly at Severus, "They're his friends, aren't they?"

Hermione threw him an exasperated look.

"Ron.."

"Snape's right. We're wasting time." Bill hissed, and took Severus' arm.

Before Ron could open his mouth again, Hermione pushed her hand onto Severus', and Severus spun on the spot.


End file.
